#Wandering Tofu

[idontthinkimokaymentally]

Hello there Wandering Tofu fans.

[tofulikesmala]

Can I request four anemo genshin boys?

[Venti, Xiao, Kazuha, Wanderer/Scaramouche]

With a reader who is an Angel and has Wings? And plays a harp the whole time, it sounds peaceful like heaven.

I mean Venti would definitely love and adore it 👀

Anemo boys with an s/o who was angel wings

Venti

ngl yea, he would like it

Nah, Mondstat got two bards now.

He'll invite you to perform with him!

Or you two could go on a simple date, sitting by a tall hill, playing soft music while he rests his head on his shoulder

MATCHING WINGS YIPPIE

Since he's had that wing for a long time, he def knows how to groom it, so he'll help you for sure!

At this rate both of y'all gonna save another group of slaves in the zestiest, twinkeist, most fruity outfit known to mankind

Xiao

he would be like 😮 woah. But he won’t express it- maybe he will, but you gotta be not dense to notice it!

I headcannon with his 161 cm figure, you can actually lift him into the air, and make him go helicopter helicopter

his face will be like all red, wiggling in the air as he demands you to put him down,

but will you? No, because it quite an amusing sight, the powerful yaksha swinging in the air like a soft toy

as you know, he was saved by venti’s music, right?

so when you play those relaxing tunes on your lyre, it reminds him of the past, the tough days in the archon war, yet he’s reminded that he was saved

so as both of you hangout on the balcony of wangshu inn, overseeing liyue harbor, as you play your lyre, your wings shielding Xiao from the cold winds of the night, he rests his head on your shoulder, gripping your hand tightly, never letting go

Kazuha

Fascinated, in all of his travels, he has never met someone like you

He got used to it after y’all started dating

both of you guys play a lottt of music, him playing with his leaf, and you playing harp

he loves your music, and you love his. Such a perfect couple~

he helps you groom your wings time to time, as an excuse to touch your delicate and smooth feathers

Wanderer

Y’all gonna whee whee over all of tevyat

But of course, you can fly longer than him, and you tease him for it

his face gets so flustered and he demands you to stop it, stomping his feet on the ground like a little child

he may not be able to play music, but he sure loves yours,

he likes your wings, a lot, as much as he wouldn’t admit it

Its Probably cannon that he pokes it

*poke poke*

[active-mind-15]

Had to further the Akashi cat-lover agenda before going to bed tonight. Reference under the cut. Enjoy. 😌✨

[kaaaaaaarf]

Can someone tell me why I remember my order from my favourite Thai place from 21 years ago, but can't remember what I was supposed to pick up from this god forsaken drug store???

[kissandtellus]

Okay, brat tamer this, brat tamer that- okay, but what if i want to be good :( what if i wanted to be his perfect girl who rarely disobeys :( just soaking up praise like its the oxygen i need to breath!!!

(Please i beg of you write this with zayne or sylus, i would be forever grateful, theres never enough good girl rep in fics now days <3)

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢɪʀʟ ᴥ

Synopsis: Good Girl rep for our boys Zayne & Sylus!

Warnings: Cunninglings, improper use of ‘doctor’, wee bit of pet play, standing while doing the deed, objectification (just a smidge)

Authors Note: I loveeee this idea! Request are still open!

• ೀ ZAYNE

Zayne would almost NEED a good girl in his day to day life. He spends every day with his patients lives at his fingertips. When he opens the door to his home, he’s greeted by the scent of Mapo Tofu in the air.

His sweet girl is in the kitchen, slaving away over the stove.

Her cooking was to die for, but nothing replaced the taste of her sweet cunt between her legs.

His glasses fogged up 10 minutes ago, his face flush with the lack of oxygen and the way you were grinding up against his nose. He chuckled into your heat, reaching down to tangle his fingers in your own.

“What Gods did I please to deserve such a perfect girl like you, hm?” His broad tongue flattened against your quivering clit again. The sight nearly had you orgasming for a third time against his sinful mouth.

Your hips bucked off the kitchen counter. The towel that was thrown over your shoulder for dishes, was now being used like a napkins for Zayne’s lab coat, careful not to stain it with your sweet nectar.

Not like it would be the first time.

Zayne slipped two cold fingers in and up against your heated channel, curling in just the right spot with a doctor’s precision.

“Oh? What was that pretty girl?” He cooed, brushing your hair back away from her face.

You hiccuped back a sob of pleasure as he flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth against your aching clit. “Can I cum Doctor? I followed all your rules for my health! Good portion sizes, I took a break from fighting Wanderers!” You were blubbering, spilling all of your accomplishments and good deeds like you were confessing sins.

Zayne chuckled, the warmth hitting your core. “Let go for me little one, let me taste you.”

• ೀ SYLUS

Sylus treated you like his most precious pet. You were so well behaved, lounging on his lap while he scrolled through documents on his computer.

His fingers scratched your head, swearing he even heard you purr once or twice from his attention alone. You craved his positive affirmations, craved the way he made your stomach all warm.

That wasn’t the only thing filling your stomach.

His laptop was on the arm of the chair as you rode his cock, tits spilling from your low cut dress. He guided you with one hand on your lower back, casting a glance between your thighs to watch his aching length disappear inside.

You stayed quiet just as he instructed, pleading with your eyes and clenching walls instead.

Sylus chuckled, casting his eyes to your face at the soft ‘plap plap plap’ of your ass hitting his balls. “Kitten, you are doing so well for me.” He praised, typing a quick farewell message onto his laptop before slamming it shut.

Now with both hands free, he stood from the chair, hooking his arms under her legs. “I think you deserve a treat, Kitten.” His hands grabbed both of your ass cheeks, using the leverage to lift you up and down his length.

He didn’t just workout to be intimidating, he pushed his physically strength to the max so he was able to fuck his Good Girl like she deserved.

Drool pooled at the corner of your mouth. This angle was absolutely diabolical. You swore you could feel him in your lungs at this point.

Sylus chuckled, pressing his forehead to hers as he used her body like a fleshlight come to life.

“Only MY Good Girl could take my cock like such a fuckin’ Champ.”

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 2, Part 2

Masterpost (Thank you jaythefae for reading over this so that I could post it! This migraine has me writing a lot of swapped words.)

Okay, okay fuck. That wasn’t what Wally was going for at all!

It was a tower! Like Titan’s tower and the lightning bolt was supposed to be him. He was trying to tell them who he was, not spell doom. Who made a tower doom?

Wally put his fingers to his lips and paced. Or paced as much as he could. If he went too far from Danny (and boy had it taken a long time to even learn Danny’s name) he would… disintegrate, for lack of a better word. And wow did Wally want a better word because he did not like disintegrating. People shouldn’t disintegrate!

“Okay, okay, I can work with this! I did go through a major—” Wally leaned in to try and hear the conversation. Danny was clear enough, but anything Mina (or not Danny) said was like listening to the words through wind storm.

“…upheaval and destruction. Change, basically,” Mina said.

He wished she’d shout.

“And… change is doom?” Danny said. He sounded as dubious as Wally felt about that.

Mina shrugged. “People don’t — change. Like — so they get grum— and then— and tada! Change bad.”

“Well, I mean. Of course they went through a change, they’re dead,” Danny said.

Wally winced so hard he bumped into and through Danny’s shoulder. Danny shuddered at the touch.

“Or if not dead, trapped somewhere,” Danny added with a glance towards where Wally was standing.

It was a good sign that Danny was starting consider that Wally wasn’t a ghost. Wally really, really didn’t think that he was dead, after all. But how to get across that he was trapped in the Speed Force? He didn’t think there would be a card for that.

Wally zipped over to Mina’s side, took the cards, and shuffled through them. He really wished that he knew what these damn things meant. A small part of his brain said that messing with the cards like this was messing up the meaning, but fortune telling wasn’t real. (At least not normal human fortune telling.) Once he had finished stacking the spread set with cards he hoped would be useful, he put the cards back and returned to Danny’s side.

The world blurred and crackled around him.

This was using too much energy that he didn’t have. Something had to come from it.

Please.

This had to help.

-

“Well, that wasn’t any help.”

“Don’t say that Danny,” Mina said, but even she was frowning slightly down at her cards as if they were a puppy that had piddled on the floor.

“Do you want to go grab some food? I’m craving one of those avocado, tofu, and facon sandwiches from that place you love.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds excellent,” Mina said, perking up. She stood from the table and started back towards the kitchen. “But before you go, I want to give you some of a special tea. It will help you settle into a sort of zone so that maybe you can have a better chance of connecting with your spirit without you being hurt.”

“Mina Aleshire, are you giving me drugs?” Danny gasped dramatically as he wandered after her, Hubris held limply in his arms.

She paused in opening the cabinet, as if really having to consider the question. “Well, nothing illegal?”

“Mina!”

“It’s an herbal blend!” she argued. “Just, maybe don’t have anywhere to go or anything to do for a few hours after taking it. You know, just in case.”

Danny sighed. “The worst part is that I’m really considering taking this mystery herb blend.”

“It’s better than having seizures,” she pointed out as she handed him a little satchel.

“It’s better than having seizures,” he agreed and took it.

-

The tea smelled like rain and honeysuckle. Danny cradled the mug he was using more carefully than the thick, chipped ceramic warranted. The warmth seeped into his palms and bones. He breathed the pungent smell in and then let out the breath slowly.

He didn’t know if this would work.

It was almost certainly a bad idea, what with him being not entirely human, but it was at least an idea. Danny had never seen one of Mina’s readings go so badly. It went so badly that Danny felt certain that the ‘ghost’ had been interfering. The problem was, is that Danny didn’t know if the sabotage was on purpose or from ignorance.

He wanted to believe that it was ignorance. That the ghost had been trying to tell them something, but in doing so had messed up the reading. But Danny always wanted to believe the best in people.

It had gotten him burned too often.

It might get him burned again if the ghost was really out to hurt him. Mina couldn’t give him the clearest answer on what the tea was going to do, but Danny was pretty sure that it was going to make his spirit less attached to his body for a bit so that he could commune with the things not of this realm. A less attached spirit meant one that was easier to sever.

But he was already half dead, so what did it matter?

Or so he told himself.

Before he could run around the logic again, Danny tipped the mug back and took a long, slow sip. It was spicier than he expected, but in a good way. He drained half the cup steadily as he slowly settled into the mound of pillows that made up his bed. It really wasn’t half bad, for magical drug tea.

“I think I can smell that from here. Which, dude, is saying a lot because I’m stuck in the Speed Force.”

Danny hummed. “What’s the Speed Force?”

“What’s the—can… can you hear me? Can you actually hear me? Did the weird tea do something?!?” the words came in such a rush that they were hard to follow. It didn’t help that they sounded like they were coming from a badly tuned ham radio.

“Slower. You have to be slower. I can barely understand you. You’re static. You’re always static to me,” Danny said.

“Sorry. I’m sorry! I’m sorry I am and that I hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t mean to. But you’re the only one that I can hear and see! I need your help!” The words sped up and up again until they were a blur—a roar—a scream—

The mug hit the mattress and bounced onto the floor with a crack as Danny clutched at his head to try to block the sound out.

The talking stopped.

His head continued to ring.

Danny curled up into the pillows with a whimper.

It was a minute or days later when Danny felt fingers running through his hair. They were wonderfully warm.

“—always hurting you. You keep trying for me though, don’t you?”

“Wanta help,” Danny mumbled.

The fingers stilled then picked back up their path. “I need the help too, which is… I’m supposed to be the hereo here, you know?”

“You’re dead,” Danny said.

“Ugh, no! Come on, you were finally moving away from that idea, Danny! I’m not dead! I’m trapped in the Speed Force.”

Danny finally found the strength to roll himself over. Bright blue eyes set among fiery hair and a beautiful scattering of freckles blinked down at him. Danny reached up an unsteady hand to brush over one of the freckled cheeks.

“Speed Force?”

“What gives me my powers. Something went wrong and I’m trapped. You seem to be the only one that can hear or see me and it’s hurting you.”

“Yeah, seizures suck,” Danny said. The world around them was just a swirl of color. Like when a ride at a carnival was spinning so fast that nothing was real anymore. “I don’t think I’m going to be okay when I wake up.”

They laughed, but it was a bitter, choked off sound. “No, Danny, I don’t think you’re going to be okay either.”

“Oh. How can I help you?”

They shook their head, red hair flew about. “You should focus on yourself.”

“Already hurt,” Danny pointed out. “Make it worth it. How can I help you?”

Their blue eyes searched his and then closed as they gave an almost keening whine. Man, they really were worried about him, weren’t they?

“If you can remember, go to Titan’s Tower,” they said finally. “Ask for Nightwing and… and tell him that I said that he's a real dick, okay?”

Danny blinked.

The world spun and spun and spun.

“What?”

“He’ll know what I mean,” they insisted. “He’ll know it’s from me. Tell the Titans that I’m with you and I’m trapped in the Speed Force and I need them to get me out.”

There was an alarm screaming now. Was it time to get up?

“And take care of yourself a little, okay?”

People were shouting.

“Okay.”

The world went dark.

[k-ast]

not giving him kisses w/ xiao, wanderer, and tartaglia

in which you decide to tease him. gn!reader

established relationship, fluff, kissing

a/n: i saw an instagram reel and had to do this with them! hope nobody's done this already. not proofread sorry 🙏🙏

xiao's head rests between your collarbone and your chin, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. a view always soothes him, whether it's you, or the sun setting below qingyun peak.

it is moments like these that he especially cherishes, when you two sit in comfortable silence. when he's feeling brave, he'll peck your lips quickly, and then go right back to using you as a pillow.

xiao feels brave today. he removes his head from its comfortable spot and his fingertips graze your cheek, aiming to place his lips on yours, but you lay a hand over his heart gently.

"...what?"

confusion is cute on him, but you kind of feel bad about what you're about to do.

"um, yn?"

you just smile innocently.

xiao's expression droops visibly. his hand falls from your face, and he starts to turn away, ears red.

"nooo," you instantly say, giving a small guilty laugh. setting a hand on his jaw, you tilt his head back to you and kiss him, gently and apologetically.

xiao has a tiny frown on his face, eyes avoiding yours. "why'd you do that..?" he asks softly.

"i'm sorry," you say, and you kiss him again. "it was just a prank."

he scowls then. "tch, i thought you didn't want me to kiss you anymore or something."

you grab his shirt collar and pull him to you, to prove him wrong.

"'m sorry," you mumble again. "i love youu." he puts his head back on your shoulder, tracing the lines of your palm.

xiao hums in response to your apology. two minutes later, he connects your mouths again, tasting sweet with a trace of almond tofu.

two minutes later he does it again.

and again.

you won't be going back to liyue harbor any time soon.

you pull something new on him almost every week.

this time, you walk up to wanderer sitting on the couch and boldly put your hand on his neck, leaning in until you're breathing the same air. one leg is on the couch next to to him and the other rests on the floor.

his eyes dart between yours and your lips, evidently confused but not complaining. hands find their way to your middle.

you lean in like you're about to kiss him, but just when he's about to meet you halfway...

wanderer stares at you when you just get up off of him, but he pulls you by your waist back down. you tumble onto his lap, with his scrutinizing gaze above.

"what do you think you're doing?" he asks in his signature no-bullshit voice.

"sorry," you say cheerfully. "prank." you decide to snuggle into his shoulder instead.

"tsk..." he flicks your forehead. "you and your silly pranks. you beg for my kisses all the time, but you try to pull this on me?"

you roll your eyes. "so can i have a kiss?"

"nope," wanderer says haughtily, "you had your chance!"

so you give him your best pout, playing with his hand in yours until he gives in.

mr king of snark grumbles, "fine, i guess you can have a kiss..."

his lips are warm, unlike the cool hands on your waist. just when you start prodding for entry with your tongue, wanderer pulls away.

"nope, that was all you get."

"whaaat! baby, i said sorryyy..."

"nope."

of course, he relents later. the man would do anything for you, after all.

"okay, baby, you've gotta go to work!"

he doesn't budge.

"baby. you're gonna be late."

tartaglia rests his face on his palm, elbow propped up on the kitchen island. "aren't you forgetting something?" he asks with a stupidly gorgeous cheeky smile.

"um..." you know exactly what you're forgetting, but you say, "oh right, your coffee! here, love."

he blinks.

then rises from his chair to lean in and kiss you, but a hand on his chest stops him.

a tiny laugh leaves his chest.

"whaaat, yn?" when you don't reply, he leans in again, but you push him away.

your boyfriend drops his head on your shoulder, giving you a cute pout. "give me a kiss," he whispers.

you only smile, not moving.

"does my breath smell or something?"

"no," you giggle.

then a hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you to him, his lips meeting yours. he kisses you fiercely, over and over. laughing into his mouth, you tap his chest gently to signal that you can't breathe. tartaglia attacks your neck instead, burying his forehead into your skin when he's done.

"finished?" you giggle.

a kiss on your jaw.

"you have work, love."

another on the corner of your smile.

"ajax tarta-"

"okay, i'm going!!"

hope ygs enjoyed this!!! maybe will do different characters?

[sakkiichi]

CASTLES CRUMBLING.

Memories of you are both cathartic and painful when he visits your grave.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Xiao, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Lyney, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: angst.

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

Autumn. The time of year that brought warm memories to the wandering samurai despite its chilly winds.

Shades of scarlet coated Inazuma’s grassy plains, like a rain constituted by droplets of dawn light when the maple leaves swayed to the ground.

And amidst this scene, you.

You, who danced to the tune of the foliage floating in the breeze; you, who snuggled his red scarf closer around your neck when he wrapped it around you, taking in his sweet cinnamon-like scent; you, whose hand used to fit perfectly in his, as you ran your thumb over the scarred skin under his bandages.

Kazuha finds himself staring at those now. He remembers all too well how you used to wrap them around his hand. Your lips brushed over every indentation in his burnt skin, overwriting storms with sunlight and blue skies.

“All healed now.” You sing-sang, the tenderness of your kiss over the wrapped scars.

It feels empty now, his grasp, still searching for you every morning, but you’re out of reach.

Even now, as the wandering poet’s head rests against you, he can’t quite feel your touch.

“Hello, my dove.” He begins, fingers brushing over the dendrobiums surrounding you. Moondust lashes kiss his cheeks when the sunsets in his stare cloud over, the image of your smiling face behind his lids. “It’s already autumn, remember how you called it our season, my angel?” He softly says, turning his head slightly, so that his forehead partially leans on you. “The leaves are turning red already, I’ve picked some for you.” Kazuha utters, as he gently threads them around the stone.

Hard. Cold. So unlike the warmth you radiated. He sighs, opening his eyes, tender hearths to warm your paralyzed heart.

“I’ve been writing too…” Dampness pools around his lashes. “Haikus, poems, because I know you love them, hummingbird…” The samurai’s voice cracks, vision blurry, as he traces the letters of the name he used to breathe in between kisses.

Your name. The only one that will forever echo through his sweetest dreams, double edged now.

Droplets of molten moonlight slide down Kazuha’s cheeks, colliding with the earth separating you from the world.

“We will meet again, my dove.” He vows, kneeling on the grass, moist by his tears. “In some corner of the next life. I promise, love.”

As he stands up, retracing his steps, the wind picks up.

Kazuha clutches his red scarf closer to him.

Your scent still lingers.

✧ XIAO

Spring had never felt so cold.

The sun over Liyue’s mountains is too dull; the glaze lilies appear closed off; the days feel too long.

The conqueror of demons makes his way through Guili Plains, his steps slow, as if that would keep away a cruel reality that’s set in stone.

He’s coming to meet you, and yet he’s never felt so far away from you.

In the few steps that separate the yaksha from you, an infinity of memories and bittersweet dreams seem to wash over him. They mingle with the scent of morning dew over qingxins bloomed anew.

Qingxin. What he used to call you.

“Xiaooo!” You cooed, a smile sweeter than the treat you offered him alight on your lips. “Dessert’s ready, love.” You called, offering him the plate of delicious almond tofu.

It was always his favorite, especially the one made by you.

His cheeks took on a tint not unlike the lipstick marks you left on him when you felt like teasing him, peppering his face with your honeyed kisses. You always used to chuckle at the sight.

“Qingxin…” his voice quivered, in awe, gaze of gold widened, sparkly. “There is no need for you to go through this trouble for me…”

“Nonsense!” You cut him off, hands cradling his cheeks. “I love making your favorite food for you, baby.”

Now he brings one of his own scarred hands to his face.

It’s so cold in comparison to your comforting warmth.

Yet even colder is the grey hue of the heavy stone that comes into view: the one marking the spot where you were laid to rest for good.

Slowly, resigned to the inevitability of reality, the vigilant yaksha reaches you.

Even though he knows he will no longer have you.

Xiao’s whole form trembles when he leaves the handmade butterfly over your gravestone. Its petal wings are all crooked, his grip vice-like in his anguish.

Now the flower-made insect will never fly again. A crystal bubble, lit up on his darkest nights, inside which dreams warm and sweet were recounted, as long as the adeptus stayed in your embrace; now shattered, only sharp fragments left to pierce his heart.

“I’m sorry…” is all the demon conqueror can manage as greeting, the moment he sits before you, head hung low.

The karma he bears had never crushed him this badly.

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Winter squalls leave nothing but ashes behind.

The layers of snow have started melting, decrepit twigs following, the aftermath of a furious gale, death in its wake.

The wanderer seems to verse in the bony hands of it often, after all. This life, this world… they only ever took from him, shattered mirrors as the only remains of promises to never come.

He rests the back of his head on the frigid stone. He doesn’t care about the last remains of snow seeping into his very crafted bones.

Scaramouche’s hand closes into a fist, dirt and melted ice on his skin.

“They took you away too…” The puppet breathes, inexistent puffs of his words sifting against the blackened skies in the cold. His indigo gaze is clouded over, despite stars littering every corner of the midnight above.

A lie.

Make believe. Like thinking he could be happy for once.

Turning around, Scaramouche presses his forehead against what’s left to symbolize you.

“Why?” He asks, teeth gritted, to stop the helpless quiver of his lip. “Why you too?”

The softness of your human embrace takes ahold of his memories, as you both lay beneath the endless firmament above.

“Have you ever wished upon a star, Kuni?” You asked, your warm fingers combing through the distant nights contained in his shiny locks.

“Pft, are you serious?” He used to retort, the mirrored galaxies of his stare coming into view as his eyelids opened.

“Very.” You stated, without stopping your movements, eyes never leaving the starfields above.

“Why?” He asked, focused on your profile, as if a part of him knew how ephemeral instants like this would become, committing to memory the only constellation that lit up his hollow heart.

“Because it’s nice, to hope, to believe in things… wouldn’t you agree?” You smiled down at him, tender hands cradling the coolness of his jawline.

“Huh, if you say so…”

“You know I’m right!” You chuckled, poking his cheek playfully, his nose scrunching up in feigned annoyance.

“Ugh, whatever.”

“Make a wish?” Your fingers found his in the night breeze, entwining together, the warmth of a small sun just for him.

“Fine…” He sighed, closing his eyes, lashes of concealed dreams leaning on his perfect cheekbones.

“I wished for forever with you.” He croaks out now.

An almost god brought to his knees by the treacherous fate written in devious stars.

His vision blurs, headed skyward, the universe above, a multitude of molten wildfires to him, raining down in flammable rain, his own tears the match to ignite them.

The failed god weeps. Winter burns.

✧ LYNEY

“You never know what can happen in the blink of an eye.”

Those were the words the magician once uttered, as your eyes lit up in wonder. He believes to recall it was a summer night, when his dusky gaze set on you for the first time.

Beaming and shining with excitement, you marveled at his sleight of hand, as the lumidouce bell on the performer’s hand vanished, only for its petals to have tinted in rosy shades of rainbow when the bloom next appeared in your hair.

If anyone had told Lyney, in that moment, that you’d end up putting his heart under spell, he wouldn’t have quite believed it.

But thinking back on it now, the time spent next to you certainly feels like mere seconds.

A peculiar figure sporting a top hat makes his way towards Fontaine’s graveyard.

His steps are monotone, the usual cheshire-like grin on his visage is nowhere to be seen, and in his hands, flowers abound.

Lumidouce bells.

The color of goodbyes, separations.

And the summer nights under which he used to kiss you.

“Please, Lyney! I want to see another one!” You begged, hands clasped together, eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.

Your lover hums, his gaze, the backdrop against which the sunsets in your stare sparkled.

“Well, mon coeur,” the magician leaned forward, “I’ll have to charge you for it this time, you know.”

You pouted, marcotte colored lips irresistibly sweet, a bite of sugary peach in the heat of an early midsummer’s night.

“Close your eyes, my rose.” Lyney breathed, in the little dusk-lit millimeters separating you two.

“Okay.”

Warmth flooded around him the instant his lips enveloped yours, akin to fairy lights in the coziness of a familiar room, fiery arrows that linked two hearts. Your lover’s hands cupped your jawline, spells written in the caress of his gloved touch over your skin.

A new breed of magic, with the sun dipping behind the nation of hydro’s mountains to give the lovers privacy.

When he next opens his eyes, the allure has faded.

No trace of you remains, save for the emptiness and cold beside him.

And the only nightmare he can’t undo; your tombstone all too palpable, too real.

“You really never know how everything can change in the blink of an eye, huh?” Lyney utters, his voice raw, hoarse.

Despite the lumidouce bells’ petals shifting from dusk to dawn the moment he lays them to rest over you, the magician feels like he’s shooting arrows made of shadows; there’s no fiery beacon to light up this night.

The curtain closes when he steps away, rainbow roses bleeding and lonely in his wake.

The sun has set.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Off-key birdsong and steely skies.

Those are Fontaine’s Chief Justice’s companions today.

Alone, he sits next to the ghost of someone he used to adore.

Someone he still loves.

Crystalline amethyst eyes scan the horizon. Even the seas seem turbulent today, relentless waves colliding against jutting rocks, as if by persistence alone they could cut through them.

The wailing ocean mirrors Neuvillette’s actions; as if by staring in the distance, he could somehow conjure you up back into the world, on forgotten dreams and pieces of flashbacks alone.

“It looks like it will rain soon, my dearest.” He softly says, the words lost in the monsoon overcasting the heavens.

Naturally, no answer follows, except for the agonized cry of a fallen sparrow.

The Iudex of Fontaine sighs. An upheaval in the blowing mistral combs through his hair, the sensation unlocking the pages of a diary once rose-colored, now only scattered petals over a lake that’s gone still for good.

“Isn’t the weather so nice lately, Neuvi?” You chirped, knees folded over the azure flowerbeds. Your hands were carded through your lover’s long locks, silver seafoam running almost hypnotizingly between your fingers.

Sunbeams glittered all around you when his eyes opened up to you, enigmas from the depths being laid bare for you alone.

“It is, darling…” He trailed off, one of his hands touching the side of your face, eliciting giggles from you.

Pink dusted over the pallor of his cheeks whenever you did that.

If only all days could be sunny, if only he could have kept the symphony of your laugh forever playing…

The sea’s surface turns charcoal, undulating with the low whistling of uprising gales.

Dark spots start appearing over the stone where your name’s been eternally put to sleep.

Beneath the blindfold, Justice mourns.

It’s raining again.

[huxhsz]

— weightless paradise

transmigrated non-mc!reader x caleb

prev ch: 21 - walk┆series masterlist ┆next ch: 23 - field trip

This isn’t how the game was supposed to go. You're not supposed to be here. You're an anomaly. But if you’re already here, then… can’t you just enjoy it for now? Just for a little while? Before the main story begins? Before everything inevitably falls into place? ...Right?

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

CH. 022 — HOME

Bloomshore District always smells like salt and sunlight. The breeze carries the sound of waves from the harbor, mingling with the chatter of market stalls and the occasional hum of passing skycars.

It’s not fancy like the central districts—Bloomshore is quieter, the streets lined with old cobblestone and weathered storefronts. Flowers grow wild along the cracks in the pavement, bright bursts of color in the late afternoon sun.

It feels… safe.

Home.

The house is small but comfortable. Just two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen with a window overlooking the harbor. The furniture is mismatched, a mix of thrift store finds and things Josephine scavenged over the years, but it’s cozy. Lived-in.

And right now, it smells like food.

“Dinner’s ready,” Caleb calls from the kitchen.

You wander in, drawn by the sound of clinking pans and the low crackle of oil. Caleb is at the stove, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a thin sheen of steam curling around his face. The light from the window catches on his dark brown hair and the sharp line of his jaw.

“You didn’t burn anything this time?” you tease, leaning against the counter.

Caleb shoots you a look. “Do you want to eat or not?”

You grin. “What are you making?”

“Stir-fry.” He tosses the pan, the vegetables sliding smoothly over the surface. “And soup.”

“You’re showing off.”

“Maybe.”

Josephine pokes her head into the kitchen. She’s holding a book in one hand and adjusting her reading glasses with the other. “Smells good.”

Caleb gestures toward the table. “Sit. It’s almost done.”

“Not bad,” Josephine muses. “You’ve gotten better.”

Caleb’s mouth twitches. “Because you stopped trying.”

Josephine raises a brow. “Because I realized you’re better than me.”

“You admitted it.”

Josephine snorts and disappears back toward the living room.

Eden slides into the kitchen next, humming under her breath. “Oh! It’s stir-fry today?”

“Mm-hmm,” Caleb says, plating the food.

“You spoil us.” Eden plops into a chair at the small round table.

“It’s better than instant meals,” Caleb says, setting down the plates.

Eden stretches her arms above her head. “True. Can’t believe we survived on nutrient bars for that long.”

“Barely,” you mutter.

The memory tastes like metal and artificial sweetness. You push it away.

Caleb sits down across from you, setting down the last dish. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel the weight of his gaze when you pick up your chopsticks.

“You didn’t have to make so much,” you say quietly.

“I wanted to.”

You sigh. “What if I didn’t want to eat?”

“You always eat when I cook,” Caleb says simply.

You glance at him, but he’s already focused on his bowl, breaking apart a piece of tofu with his chopsticks.

Always.

“Stop flirting and start eating,” Eden says, grinning.

You choke. “We’re not flirting!”

Caleb’s eyes flick up to yours, amused. “No?”

“Absolutely not,” you say firmly.

Eden hums knowingly.

You scowl at her.

Josephine returns to the room, setting her book down on the table. She doesn’t say much—she never does—but her presence is steady. A quiet anchor.

It’s complicated, sometimes.

Josephine was part of the research team. She was there when you were strapped to the table, when needles slid under your skin and cold monitors tracked your heart rate.

She stood behind the glass.

But she was also the one who pulled you out of the wreckage after the Chronorift Catastrophe. The one who brought you here, gave you a name, gave you a place to sleep.

You think about it sometimes—how her hands were so steady when they bandaged your wounds. How she never asked for forgiveness, but never stopped trying to make things right.

You don’t know if you forgive her. But you’ve stopped hating her.

Josephine picks up her chopsticks. “Good,” she says after the first bite.

Caleb smirks.

You roll your eyes.

After dinner, Eden sprawls on the couch with her legs hanging over the armrest. Caleb collects the plates and starts washing them without being asked. You lean against the counter beside him, drying the dishes.

“I can do that,” you say.

“I’ve got it.” Caleb’s hands are steady beneath the water. “You always say that, but you never mean it.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Are you calling me lazy?”

“Yes.”

You lightly smack his arm with the dish towel. He smiles.

Josephine switches on the old TV in the corner of the room. The signal is patchy, but a nature documentary flickers to life. Eden sits up, eyes bright.

“Oh, I love this one!”

Caleb passes you a clean plate. You dry it and set it in the cabinet. The light hum of the TV mixes with the sound of running water, with Eden’s soft commentary and Josephine’s occasional murmurs of agreement.

Home.

You never thought you’d have one. Not after the lab. Not after everything that was taken from you.

You glance at Caleb’s profile—the steady line of his mouth, the quiet steadiness in his movements. He catches you looking and raises an eyebrow.

You turn away quickly, face warm.

It’s complicated. But you think you can live with complicated.

[spicy-butterscotch]

Fic: Super Duper Cutie Hero Nikki

Lin Ling becomes a magical girl, successor to previous magical girl: Hero Nikki. He takes up the mantle for both hero and idol. Aka, a fic where he is perpetually embarrassed in his new role but does it nonetheless!

Featuring: a scantily clad uniform unique to him, Crime fighting legs with tall pink boots with even taller heels, and a new sense of mortification derived from his new role and the breeze of his signature, sailor girl miniskirt.

Keep in mind that this is an alternate universe, so from the first episode of tbhx and if I'm guessing enough, three to roughly four years beforehand.

--------

A lone figure held skewers of fried tofu in his right hand, carefully savouring the numbingly spicy flavours with a resigned look. The boy munched on his snacks, ass flat against the old concrete and leaning against the base of a billboard. A hint of tears worked through brown eyes as the boy endeavoured in rolling around the touch of mala chilli on his tongue. Spice always got to him.

Lin Ling was that singular figure situated there. The details in how he exactly got the skewers was something even murky to him. All Lin Ling recalled was the distant sensation of wandering from the streets below in a daze and the echo of a chalky gasp of ‘get out!’ rattling about in his mind.

His feet wobbled from one to another from that unfortunate sign off. A departure from his internship at the one company that gave him a chance. Whilst recovering from shock and a feeling of dread swallowing him whole, he had felt his stomach pang and so, he had uttered a low murmur and gripped the familiar feeling and weight of his designated comfort meal.

He had blinked there and then, money already passing to the vendor amongst the bustling street and something satiate his hunger and excuse his sorrows. Thus, a few chilli skewers in his right hand accompanied his sorry ass to the poop deck roof of the company building.

He sniffled at the taste and waded in his sorrowful state. How was he going to pay for rent now? His internship took away his chance of his dream advertising gig away from him alongside his wishes of some sense of financial stability.

Yet, in a blink of his watery eyes, a girl stood before him, seemingly having appeared out of nowhere. She stared at him with a sly look, head turning down and then to the sides to check for witnesses. As if there would be any by the rooftop speckled in bird poo and his sorrows.

“Say, you’re like, super-duper cute! I think you’d make the perfect candidate!” 

The girl held an innocent expression, the only unnerving part was her cheshire wide grin spread across her face. She was a bit bizarre and was, well, she was… pink to say the least. A carefully curated image of eccentric tulip everywhere, starting from the pastels of her long plaited hair, down to the wedges of her stacked mary jane shoes which sported a very coquette theme.

The feeling of cold metal was tucked under Ling Ling’s chin in a single blink. He dropped his snack. In her gloved hand was a very adorable sceptre extended out, tracing his jaw. He saw it, a gleam of silver, and a pink mischievous gleam from the wand's ring that fizzled.

Status symbol of the hero Nikki. And if Lin Ling wanted to be technical, ‘magical girl Nikki’. 

“Huh.” He said. “A candidate? For what?” He echoed. Stupefied and trying to grasp a hold of the situation he was being pulled into. 

This was all too sudden, one second he was contemplating his whole life and holding his belongings in hand, the next he was being approached by a rank twenty hero brandishing her weapon under his chin in a semi threatening manner. She was tip toeing on the line between innocent curiosity and threatening behaviour. She looked extremely trigger happy. And crazed, if he even had to spell that out.

Lin Ling felt an impending sense of dread. Her eyes pierced into his confused ones with a desperate glee.

So in short, opposed to her carefully curated public persona, Nikki was off her rockers!

“The hero gig of course. The magical heart called for you. Or like, I just found you in the crowd or whatever. I dunno. And like, I just don’t wanna do this gig anymore so I came to you.” She shrugged. That was the worst explanation Lin Ling had ever heard. It was muddled, confusing and gave no proper answers. He had better outlines given by his boss. Well, his previous one.

“Can’t I have a better explanation than that?” He cried. This was completely insane. She was completely insane! Lin Ling's previous admiration for what little news he paid attention to regarding her reported acts of heroism evaporated into exasperation. She spoke in riddles, was oddly threatening, and was convinced that of all people, he could help her with whatever she wanted.

“Okay. Hm. So like, I'm a Nikki, I’m saying ‘a’ because these powers are like, passed down from one individual to another, relative information to the public. And today is my scouting day.” She explained, hands gesturing to point to the gem. 

“Scouting.” He murmured in thought. “So, you want me to be your successor?” He said. His thoughts lingered on the broach, trying to dredge up information on Nikki. 

“Ding ding ding! You got it right!” She clapped her hands, smiling large and cat-like. He didn't like the way she said that.

Flashes of striking poses fluttered within his head. His brain shuffled through images of previous Nikki’s and their attire before letting each and every uniform he could think of, to overlap one another and finally to garner the general consensus of what it was to look like Nikki.

Memories sliding over each other and cutting out each design. Every recollection of specific boots, dresses, shoes, fluffed up hair, weapon and face extracted into this file. And with that, reigning as a result of his mind, was the image of an extremely feminine silhouette.

So, with this singular image rattling about in his pretty head, he asked. “But.. Isn’t Nikki supposed to be a girl?”

She gave a shrug. “Well not really. I told the public I was searching for someone else to fill my shoes. And you’re basically the perfect fit. Well, the only requirement is being cute and not being dumb as rocks after all. Nothing about gender.” She winked, leaning in to observe him.

She pinched his jaw between her fingers, appraising his features with an approved hum. From the slope of his nose and the crease of his eyes, her eyes dragged against the smooth portrait of the boy before her with a particularly menacing grin. He didn't even know that kind of expression was possible to pull. Nikki was truly more terrifying than what the adverts had painted her to be.

“And listen. There’s a handguide on everything so I don’t have to spill alllllll of the information. So I’ll give you a quick run through of the things I think that would be the most relevant to you.” She said, settling the sceptre down.

“One. The pay is killer. Two, I transfer my powers here, right now for you and I don’t have to search for any more candidates, fast and easy powers, right? Instantaneous, just like that.” She clicked her fingers.

“Three, you get to be a hero.” She struck a pose. "The only reason I don't want to be Nikki anymore, is because I want go on a permanent vacay overseas, and the fact that I'm not cut out to be Nikki." She admitted.

"I hate cardio with a passion and even if I don't get tired for hours on end, I did it for the pay. I'm cute to boot sure, but I can just get back to my old streaming job. You on the other hand had this rock literally pulling me to you. The Nikki before me just chucked the broach and I became her, just like that. You have a legitimate calling." She said.

She took his hand in his, grappling his fingers to touch the broach. He felt static brushing with life underneath his skin.

"You felt it right?" He nodded.

"The handbook described some dumb fizzling touch to be experience, but I had to literally beg this cold stone to at least cooperate." She said.

Lin Ling gave one look over her costume. Then to the box on the side. “How much is the pay?” He asked.

Her eyes creased up as she handed him a sheet of paper. “This is the amount I settled on initially” 

He took it gently, glancing over the terms and the clauses before settling on a humongous number. He looked down once more in doubt, then his eyes turned as big as saucers. 

It was an unbelievable amount for Lin Ling. If he worked twenty years at his dream advertising job, it wouldn’t have even amounted to half the pay the gig was promising him. Suddenly, the prospect of possibly crossdressing didn’t seem so dire at that moment. All shame aside, even if he made a total ass of himself im public, he would have the opportunity to retire in the same year and fly off the radar to bum ass nowhere. Maybe he could scamper to a nice town, dilly dallying with his fine arts and mixed media degree taking freelance work. He wanted to experience being a hero as well, just one taste of helping others from the goodness of trust and the want of his soul. This was his chance.

“So? Whadaya say?” She smiled expectantly.

He really had nothing to go back to. An orphan with a handful of cash in his bank account and a degree that settled in his apartment with a dust collecting flaccid flair.

He gave a meek nod. He was jobless and desperate. She grinned. 

She took a step back in preparations and oddly enough, he heard the sound of a choir, winding out a melody of tear jerking beauty. Angelic. Against his will, Lin Ling felt a tear rip out of his tear duct, clinging onto his lashes. This was simply absurd.

Pressing a kiss to her ring and index finger, Nikki tapped the gemstone surface. The cockroach sized broach attached itself onto the pads of her fingers, magnetised to the graceful motion of her hands.

A sharp and blinding light pierced his view as the world shuttered to a stop, blending out to a canvas of white and tuning out every background noise to focus on this singular moment, a cry of importance, a wail of attention. 

Lin Ling thought it was rather pretentious how the world had to single handedly adjust to the magical girl. It was basically calling out for everyone, proclaiming ‘Hey, everybody look at me!’ in its fit of glittery glory.

Nikki levitated, rising up as if her single supporting point was her chest. Her head was tossed back and her eyes closed. In a flashy, and admittedly beautiful show of grace, she softly gripped around the broach to part with it, the action from her arm causing an arc of pure light to stretch out. That dainty hand extended out, severing the ties between hero and human. 

In that final dance of departure, everything reverted back to its normal self.

The cars honked their discordant symphony once more, and what sounded like an angelic choir had been stamped out by the muddy reality of life. He heard the distant smash of glass but was too bamboozled by what he had just witnessed to glance down at the eruption of what was possibly fire.

Shock. He was in a state of shock. Witnessed through the view of blinding animated sparkles. Maybe he was getting second thoughts about the role after all.

“Here.” Nikki said. Her physical attributes were unaltered, only her attire adjusted. Same pink eyes and hair staring back at him with that familiar catty smile, only now, she was wearing casual jeans and a tank top. She pinched the broach between her fingers with a particular delicacy and proceeded to gently press the gem to his chest, settling it to her successor’s sternum.

And maybe it had felt good. The way he was submerged into this silky feeling of heady intoxication. He slowly tucked himself into a ball as the feeling inside him grew, slowly dragging him into that protective pose, a want to preserve the influx of rising heat, vivid and swallowing him in its inviting nature. He didn't notice that his feet lifted off the floor and that showy transformation he had been aghast at before, was being applied in a much showier way to him.

He felt the gem nestle into his skin, sinking and merging into him. Attached with the stone was a gradual fuzzy feeling spreading from that contact point to every inch of his body.

He was settled back down, arms supporting his coy posture with a lax feel in his body, stress evaporating from the confinement of his mind.

“It feels warm.” He murmured, looking up drowsily with a half lidded gaze. Face flushed, and dizzy with the rush of strength inside of him in that final bid. It made him a bit lethargic. If Lin Ling had held even a semblance of common sense in that moment, he would have realised the way he had held a stupidly sensual expression on his face. Stupidly ditzy and blissed out.

“Perfect.” She smiled down at him, face held a sweet expression curled with satisfaction. “You’ll be the perfect idol.” 

“Do yourself a favor, and test out the new powers. Step off the roof with or something like that.” And just like that, she vanished into a puff of pink smoke. He looked down at the broach. He was a hero. 

He remained there, legs lightly spread, shiny pink boots planted on the floor and with breezy mini skirt for company. He sighed, staring at the sunset, then a new feeling clocked him. It was sobriety. Sudden, like a sharp whack to the head.

He shuddered as he felt a creeping cold breeze flitter through his inner thighs, tickling the skin there. His face paled. ‘I-, Surely it would spare me some dignity.’ He thought.

He casted a cautionary view to the flocking birds and the rooftop door behind him. Not a soul in sight. Lin Ling then proceeded to flip the frilly skirt up, peer down, and groan.

It was a pair of panties! It was no wonder he felt the wind tickle his thighs more than usual. The sheer material was scandalously cut. Low rise with just barely enough coverage to protect his dignity but not enough to preserve his sanity.

His face flushed in embarrassment and distress. Lin Ling closed his eyes and prayed that the skirt would do something better than the atrociously small coverage on his behind. 

A nervous gaze opened to witness one menial change, an additional lace layer frilling the underside. A feeling of faintness overcame his senses.

Maybe he was just some floozy ass showing pervert at heart. However, at least he had come to the revelation that his praying didn't come to naught. One added layer in its minimal amount was still one layer more than the previous. 

He closed those eyes once more and prayed with a fervent desire, hoping his sheer will would bend the perverse nature of his clothing choice. 

He opened his eyes.

A skirt, fluffy and airy with frills galore stuck under a masterfully sewn layer of silk. It was an improvement from the sheer layer that fluttered in an obscenely showy fashion. Yet, it was still only eight inches long. 

He pressed his face into his hands in dismay, groaning. Why did the outfit treat him this way? Every other Nikki costume was kid friendly with a squeaky and pretty sticker on top, a stamp of green approval. Why was it that it was only him that had the coverage of a female nurse Halloween costume? Scantily clad with the taste of a breeze brushing under him.

He felt hesitancy grip his heart.

Walking out in this state? No dice!

Yet, just before he was going to stomp back, he felt an echo rippling at his heart strings. He recalled Nikki’s words. ‘Hero.’ That maniacal voice uttered. Then, the image of rolling zeroes tumbled behind his eyes and dollar signs.

He casted his view down to the city. To the roads and civilians like him, scared in their vulnerable mortality and praying for any sort of heroic or divine intervention. A plea for help, a grasp at mercy.

He sighed.

It was a call for duty to the world below. So, the hero gave a hesitant inch forward in those toppling heels, shuffling forwards in relief and a bit of confusion at his newfound adeptness to striding in those dangerous heels. It was surprisingly comfy.

He hoped that he inherited the powers properly and that his fate wouldn’t be felt out as a pink splat on lackluster cement. That his last moments wouldn't be seen by wearing a sketchy outfit as him being mistaken as some crossdressing pervert with a pink kink for distressingly short skirts. The boy closed his eyes and leapt off the ledge with a touch of heroism and newfound determination. 

The paycheck would also cover therapy. Physio and mental.

-------

Hope you enjoyed! Joy was cranked into this. And perhaps a semi sadistic glee. I'm shameless in my advertising, please tell me if you want more of this and I'll whip out my first full chapter on ao3 of Hero Nikki Ling Ling!!!

Now, if you want to see my account on ao3, just click on this !

And psst, check out this post by @jonas-ct !!! I simply adore their take on magical girl Lin Ling!

[beepboopkek]

— Steady as Stone Chapter 1, A Study in Patience

Including: Zhongli x GN!Reader (for now) c/w: multi-chapter fic, will be NSFW later on, established relationship, non- $3xual BD$M, k1nk n3g0titation, fluff and smut, t0p!d0m!Zhongli, sub!bttm!reader, soft zhongli, reader is NOT traveller, reader has anxiety, gentle d0m zhongli (lmk if i missed anything) w/c: 8.6k

a/n: HALLO EVERYNYAN!!! we r so barrack !! life has put me through the ringer lately but cock waits for no one so here we r !! hopefully if this is well received chapter 2 will be out sooner than my other neglected fic (shh) anyway hope u enjoy!! sorry if the tags r a lil innaccurate im still learning,, i also kept my own self insert (whos dating zhongli akshually) in mind while making this but no features are described so go crazy imagining !

CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

It was a rare occasion—one of those few times where Zhongli chose to stay in with you, rather than spend his day off wandering through Liyue, making purchases, conversing with vendors, and reconnecting with old friends. You had long come to understand his love for these leisurely strolls, and though you were more of a homebody, you often accompanied him.

Late into the morning, you stirred his favorite tea, carefully carrying the pot over to the low table in the center of the living room. Zhongli sat across from where you stood, reading glasses perched low on his nose as he scanned the morning newspaper, one hand resting thoughtfully against his chin—a small, yet endearing habit of his.

The soft clink of the teapot being set down caught his attention. Without hesitation, he folded the newspaper to the side, reaching for his cup with one hand while adjusting his glasses with the other. A gentle smile graced his lips as he looked at you.

“Thank you, dear.”

No matter how many times he used these affectionate names, they still made you blush. Humming in acknowledgment, you lifted your cup in an attempt to hide your flustered expression.

Zhongli closed his eyes briefly, savoring the tea. Then, with a teasing lilt to his voice, he remarked, “This pot of tea is just as exquisite as the person who brewed it.” A sly smile tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he watched for your reaction.

You ducked your head slightly, mumbling, “It’s really no different from the one you get in Liyue, but… thank you.”

Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you inwardly cringed. How was it possible to be this smitten every time he praised you? Something was terribly, terribly wrong with you.

Casual conversation carried on—you asked Zhongli what he wanted for lunch, whether he preferred to go out to Wanmin Restaurant or cook something at home.

“I was thinking we could stop by Wanmin today,” you suggested, idly swirling the tea in your cup. “It’s been a while since we’ve eaten there, and I don’t feel like cooking.”

Zhongli nodded, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “That sounds agreeable. Chef Mao’s hotpot is particularly good this time of year.”

“Hotpot?” You perked up, resting your chin on your hand. “That does sound tempting. But do you think we’ll be able to get a table? You know how busy it gets during lunchtime.”

Zhongli’s lips curled into a small smile. “I am certain we will find a way. Perhaps we could also take a stroll through the harbor afterward.”

You hummed in thought. “That sounds nice. Maybe we can stop by Third-Round Knockout and pick up some tea leaves on the way back.”

“A fine idea,” he agreed, fingers tapping lightly against the porcelain of his cup. “Though I suspect you’re more interested in their osmanthus cakes than the tea.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. “How dare you call me out like that?”

Zhongli chuckled, deep and rich, and the sound alone made your heart stutter. “Merely an observation.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head with a small smile. “Fine, guilty as charged. But if we’re getting tea, we should also get some almond tofu for later.”

“That would be a welcome addition.” He exhaled softly, pausing as if in thought. Then, in a slight shift of tone, he continued, “However, before we finalize our plans, there is something I wish to discuss with you.”

His voice was calm, steady as always, yet something about the way he said it made your stomach do an uneasy flip. The casual air between you both seemed to still, anticipation creeping into your veins.

“…What is it?” you asked, sitting up a little straighter, shifting uneasily in your seat. That sentence never led to anything good in your experience. Maybe Zhongli had caught onto your sudden bout of anxiety; if he did, he made sure not to show it. “If it makes you uncomfortable, we can always stop.”

You nodded as you blew air on the edge of your cup, trying to cool the tea down, before taking a sip. “I have noticed a few things about you when we fornicate.” You choked.

Barely managing to swallow before coughing violently, you slapped a hand over your mouth as if that would somehow undo what you just heard.

Fornicate? Who even used that word anymore?!Zhongli simply waited, watching you with his usual patience as you tried to collect yourself.

“Okay, first of all—please, never say it like that again,” you blurted out, still recovering from your near-death experience with tea.

Zhongli arched a thick brow, looking completely unbothered. “Would you prefer ‘make love’?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Oh, Archons—just—anything but ‘fornicate.’”

“Duly noted.”

He set his cup down and folded his arms—a signal that he was about to launch himself into a monologue. A signal you had long since come to understand. "You respond exceptionally well to praise, and, if you'll forgive my bluntness, you also seem to enjoy being given instructions. I've observed how you react when guided—how your breath hitches, how your gaze fogs up, the way you instinctively follow without hesitation. It’s not just obedience; it’s something deeper, something that seems to bring you a distinct sense of comfort… and perhaps even pleasure." Zhongli paused, taking in your wide eyes and timid posture. He sighed softly, realising he had to wrap up his side quickly or else he would scare you off. "What I’m saying is that I think you might enjoy a more in-depth exploration of BDSM. It seems to resonate with you on a deeper level, even if you haven’t fully acknowledged it yet. I believe it’s something worth exploring together, at a pace you're comfortable with. Do you know what that entails?"

You stared at him for what seemed like several minutes, but Zhongli, as patient as ever, only looked at you with reverence in his eyes, awaiting your response. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, trying to force the words out of your throat, but to no avail. “Take your time.” Zhongli spoke, the baritone of his voice grounding you. You shut your mouth for good this time, collecting your scattered thoughts as you tried to piece together a response. After what seemed like an eternity, you quietly spoke. “I—um, I’ve never experienced it,” you admitted, gripping your cup a little tighter. “I’ve read about it, but… that’s it.” Zhongli regarded you with his usual composed expression, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—curiosity, perhaps even understanding. He nodded slowly, unfolding his arms before speaking again.

"That’s perfectly alright, it is nothing to be ashamed about," he reassured, his voice warm and even. "Knowledge is one thing, but experience is another entirely. It’s not something one can rush into, nor is it something that should be done without trust and mutual understanding. If it’s something you’re willing to explore, I would be honored to guide you through it… but only if you truly want to."

His words sent a shiver down your spine—not from fear, but from something else entirely. Excitement? Anticipation? You weren’t sure, but the weight of his gaze, steady and patient, made your heart race. "Truth be told, it has always interested me," you admitted, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. "I, um… I’ve read a lot about it in fanfiction, but I highly doubt it’s anything like the real thing."

Zhongli let out a soft chuckle, his golden eyes filled with quiet amusement. "Fanfiction, you say? While I admire your dedication to research, I suspect much of what you've read may be… dramatized, if not entirely inaccurate."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "I knew you were going to say that."

His voice took on a gentler tone as he continued, "That being said, curiosity is a natural first step. What matters most is ensuring that any experience is based on trust, communication, and a deep understanding of each other’s boundaries and desires."

You peeked at him between your fingers, your face still hotter than the Pyro Archon herself. "So… if I wanted to try, where would we even start?"

Zhongli’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he leaned forward slightly. "We start with a conversation—one where you tell me everything you’re curious about… and everything you’re unsure of." You groaned, covering your eyes with your hands again, feeling your skin burning with embarrassment beneath your fingertips.

“Do we… really have to talk about it?” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Zhongli replied, his tone calm yet firm. “I would prefer to have this discussion openly. Communication is key in matters like these.”

You continued to watch him from in between your fingers, observing as he took a slow sip of his tea before continuing.

“As for desires and boundaries, those can be outlined in a contract—on paper. That way, there is no room for uncertainty.”

Your hands dropped slightly as you gave him a wary look. “A contract?”

Zhongli simply smiled. “Naturally.” He set his teacup down with deliberate care, his golden eyes meeting yours with steady patience. “To put it simply, BDSM is built upon three fundamental principles: everything that happens must be done with clear consent; there must exist mutual understanding; and finally, there must be a focus on both partners’ well-being.”

You swallowed, nodding slowly as he continued.

“There are different dynamics within it—dominance and submission being one of the most common. In such a relationship, one partner takes on a guiding or commanding role, while the other follows and submits to that authority. However, submission is never about weakness; it is about trust. The submissive has just as much control as the dominant, if not more, because their comfort and boundaries dictate everything.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you listened.

“There are also elements of sensation play, restraint, discipline, and psychological aspects that may or may not appeal to you. It is never a one-size-fits-all experience. Every dynamic is unique, shaped by the needs and desires of those involved.”

He leaned back slightly, his expression softer. “That is why a discussion like this is essential. Before anything can be explored, we must first understand what intrigues you, what you’re uncertain about, and what you absolutely do not want.”

You hesitated, processing everything he had said. “And… the contract?”

Zhongli inclined his head. “A written agreement outlining boundaries, preferences, and limits. It ensures that both parties are respected and protected. Think of it as a set of guidelines rather than a rigid document—flexible, evolving, and entirely up to us.”

You bit your lip, heat creeping up your neck again. “This is… a lot.”

His lips twitched up into a knowing smile. “Take your time, my dear. As I said before, curiosity is merely the first step.” You fidgeted with your cup, your thoughts swirling as you tried to wrap your head around everything. Zhongli’s explanation made sense—his calm, steady voice had a way of making even the most complex ideas seem approachable—but there was still so much you didn’t know.

After a moment of hesitation, you finally spoke.

“So… how do you know what someone likes? Or what they don’t like?”

Zhongli’s gaze softened, as if he was pleased by your willingness to engage. “Communication, first and foremost,” he said, chuckling as your face soured again. “Some preferences may already be known, but others can only be discovered through discussion and, if desired, gradual exploration.”

He paused briefly before continuing, “For many, this is done through a checklist—a tool to help identify interests, limits, and curiosities. Some things may intrigue you in theory, but feel different in practice. That is why it’s important to start slow and build trust.” You nodded slowly, processing his words. “And… what if I don’t know what I like yet?”

Zhongli gave you a small, reassuring smile. “Then we discover it together.”

You swallowed, feeling your face heat up again, but curiosity pushed you forward. If you were going to have this conversation, you might as well understand all of it.

“What about you?” you asked, voice quieter than intended. “What’s… your preference?”

Zhongli studied you for a moment before answering, his tone even, yet unwavering. “I prefer the dominant role.”

You felt a shiver crawl down your spine at the unwavering certainty in his voice. “Why?”

Zhongli’s expression remained calm, but there was something deeper in his gaze now—something knowing.

“There are many reasons,” he began. “For me, it is about guidance and control—not in the sense of restriction, but in offering structure and security. I take great satisfaction in learning my partner, in understanding their needs even before they voice them. A good dominant does not simply command—they observe, anticipate, and ensure their partner feels both safe and desired.”

His gaze held yours as he continued. “More than that, it is about trust. To have someone place their faith in me, to surrender control knowing that I will never overstep their boundaries—that is something I do not take lightly. I enjoy the responsibility, the care that comes with it… and, of course, the pleasure of watching my partner unravel under my attention.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his last words, a warmth spreading through your chest. You weren’t sure what you had expected, but his answer—so thoughtful, so Zhongli—only left you with more questions and a racing heart. You shifted in your seat, trying to steady your thoughts before speaking again. “About the contract… how detailed does it have to be?”

Zhongli gave you a small, approving nod, as if he was pleased you were asking thoughtful questions. “As detailed as we need it to be,” he replied. “Some contracts are simple—outlining only the most important limits and expectations—while others are more comprehensive, covering everything from specific boundaries to preferred forms of aftercare.”

His fingers traced the rim of his teacup as he continued, “The purpose of a contract is not to restrict but to clarify. It ensures that both partners are fully aware of each other’s needs and limits, so there is never uncertainty. It is not a binding document in the legal sense, but rather a mutual agreement—one that can evolve as trust deepens and desires shift.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. “So… if I agreed to this, we would write one together?”

Zhongli’s lips curled into a small, gentle smile. “Yes. Together. Every line, every detail would be discussed, ensuring that you are comfortable with every aspect before anything begins.”

A flutter of nerves, mixed with something else—anticipation, possibly?—settled in your stomach. The way he spoke, so patient and assured, made the entire concept feel less intimidating… and far more intriguing. You sat in silence for a long moment, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of your teacup again. Every word Zhongli had spoken replayed in your mind—his patience, his steadfast nature, the weight of trust in his voice. He wasn’t just offering you an experience; he was offering you a foundation, a partnership built on understanding and care.

The idea should have been overwhelming, but instead, you felt something unexpected—a sense of clarity. A slow, deep realization settled within you.

“I…” You took a steady breath, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I think I want to try.”

Zhongli’s expression remained unreadable for a beat, as if gauging the depth of your conviction. Then, his lips curved into something softer—not just a smile, but something deeper, something proud.

“Very well,” he said, his voice smooth and warm—as if he had known you would reach this decision, but had been content to wait until you arrived there on your own. “Then we will take our time, discuss everything thoroughly, and move at a pace that feels right for you.”

His reassurance settled any lingering nerves, and you nodded. This was unknown territory, uncharted and vast, but you weren’t navigating it alone.

The next step arrived quicker than you anticipated, it was only a few days after your conversation that he presented you with a small stack of papers—each page neatly filled with columns of words you didn’t entirely understand. Your heart pounded as you took the documents from him, fingers ghosting over the crisp parchment. You had known this was coming, but knowing and experiencing were two very different things. You were hesitant at first, to sit down with Zhongli and understand each and every kink outlined, but you pressed through your hammering heart and went ahead. He had reassured you that there would be no pressure, no expectations. So, swallowing your nerves, you sat with him and turned your gaze to the words. The columns of words were all written in Zhongli’s neat handwriting, clear to read and immediately identifiable. What surprised you most, however, was the sheer amount—almost eight pages of kinks, limits and instructions, all painstakingly handwritten.

A shiver ran down your spine at the realization. Zhongli had spent considerable time crafting this list, ensuring every possibility was accounted for. The thought of him, sitting alone and carefully writing down all of these things with that signature patience of his, made something flutter in your chest. You snuck a glance at him. He was calm, composed as always, as if he hadn’t just handed you something that had your face burning. Meanwhile, you had barely skimmed through the first few lines, and already, heat was creeping up your neck. Some of the words on the page were unfamiliar, some made your stomach twist with curiosity, and others—others had you pressing your legs together beneath the table.

Zhongli, noticing your silence, tilted his head slightly. “If anything is unclear, you are welcome to ask,” he offered smoothly, as if he was discussing something as ordinary as a grocery list.

You exhaled, steadying yourself. This was fine. This was just a conversation.

“…Okay,” you said, voice a little weaker than you’d have liked. “Let’s go through it.”

Zhongli’s lips curled into something small, something approving. “Very well. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

…It was indeed not ‘just’ a conversation.

Zhongli remained calm and patient through it all, effortlessly composed as he explained each term with the same measured tone he used when discussing historical texts or the finest tea blends. Meanwhile, you—well. You were a blushing, overheating mess barely holding yourself together.

At some point, you had abandoned any attempt at dignity, sliding further and further down your seat until you were practically sinking into the floor, face buried in your hands.

“Are you feeling overwhelmed?” Zhongli asked, his voice laced with the barest hint of amusement.

You peeked at him between your fingers, your face burning hotter than the sun. “Overwhelmed is an understatement,” you groaned.

The list was thorough—painfully thorough. Every kink, every act, every dynamic was detailed in that elegant script of his, with small notes in the margins explaining anything that might be unfamiliar. You couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around his unwavering composure— as solid as the element he governs.

“I—I just—” You flailed slightly, struggling to form a coherent thought. “You actually wrote out all of this?”

Zhongli nodded, entirely unaffected. “Of course. Proper communication is essential. It is important that you understand each possibility before making any decisions.”

You groaned again, pressing your forehead against the table. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed or mortified.”

Zhongli chuckled, a soft little sound. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about, my dear. This is simply an exploration of interests. Whether you find something intriguing or wish to rule it out, every reaction is valid.”

Easy for him to say—he wasn’t the one barely holding onto their composure.

You took a slow, deep breath, willing yourself to pull it together. “Okay,” you murmured. “I can do this. Let’s… keep going.”

Zhongli’s smile was subtle but unmistakably pleased. “That’s the spirit.”

After he’d explained each item on the list iin-depth, it was time to move ahead. Taking another deep breath, you straightened in your seat—or at least tried to, despite still feeling like you’ve melted into a puddle of embarrassment. Zhongli patiently waited as you gathered yourself, his golden gaze warm yet expectant.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice only slightly wobbly.

Zhongli gestured toward the stack of papers in front of you. “We will go through each item one by one once again. If it is something that interests you, or something you are certain you wish to explore, we will mark it with green. If it is something you are unsure about, hesitant on, or feel neutral toward, we will mark it with yellow. And if it is something you do not want under any circumstances, we will mark it with red.”

You nodded slowly. It sounded simple enough. But as your eyes flickered down to the page again, scanning the long list of kinks, a wave of heat crawled up your neck. Simple or not, actually deciding on these things was another matter entirely.

Zhongli, ever perceptive, seemed to catch your hesitation. “We are in no rush,” he reminded you gently. “You may take as much time as you need. Moreover, if you wish to understand what something entails, I will be more than happy to explain it again.”

You exhaled, nodding again. “Alright.” You picked up the pen he had placed beside the papers and, after one last moment of internal screaming, placed a careful green mark beside something that made your stomach twist in interest.

Zhongli hummed approvingly, his sharp eyes noting your choice. “A fine selection,” he murmured, voice low but undeniably pleased.

Your hand tightened around the pen, snatching the paper away from Zhongli’s piercing eyes as you looked at him from the corner of your eye, face burning. “D—Don’t say it like that! And don’t look!”

His lips twitched in the faintest trace of amusement, but he said nothing more, simply gesturing for you to continue.

And so, you did—marking red for hard limits, yellow for things you weren’t sure about, and green for things that sent a thrill through your body. With each mark, you noticed that Zhongli was also filling his list alongside you, albeit much faster than you. You had to remind yourself that it wasn't a competition. Zhongli remained patient, never rushing, never pushing, only guiding. And by the time you had reached the last page, your heart was still racing—but now, it was more with anticipation than mortification.

Once the last mark was made, you set your pen down with a relieved sigh, leaning back in your seat. Zhongli, ever composed, waited for you to collect yourself before he slid his own identical stack of papers toward you.

“We will now exchange sheets,” he said smoothly, as if this was a standard contractual agreement rather than an intimate discussion about deeply personal desires.

You swallowed, your fingers hesitating for a moment before you slid your own sheets over to him in return. The weight of the moment settled in as you each took in the other’s markings—your own list now in his hands, and his in yours.

Your eyes scanned over Zhongli’s paper, taking in the familiar crisp handwriting, now marked with green, yellow, and red. Some of the things he had marked green made your breath hitch slightly, heat prickling at your skin. Others, especially the ones marked yellow, sparked curiosity. But it was the red marks that truly held your attention.

Zhongli, who had already begun reviewing your own sheet, glanced up. “If there is anything that stands out to you, do not hesitate to ask.”

You bit your lip before tentatively pointing to one of his red-marked kinks. “This one… ‘Blood Play’, you marked it as a hard limit. Can I ask why?”

Zhongli set your paper down, folding his hands neatly in his lap as he met your gaze. “Of course,” he said without hesitation. “This particular act does not align with my personal preferences, nor do I believe it would bring either of us enjoyment. Boundaries exist for a reason, and I expect you to uphold mine just as I will uphold yours.”

His words settled something deep within you, a reassurance that this was truly an equal exchange. You nodded, understanding. “That makes sense.”

He studied you for a moment before his own curiosity flickered across his expression. “And you?” His eyes dipped briefly to your sheet before returning to you. “I noticed you marked ‘Switching’ as yellow. Are you uncertain about it?”

You followed his gaze, spotting the term he was referring to, and felt your face heat up. “I—yeah,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I’d like it or not. I just… haven’t really thought about it much before.”

Zhongli hummed in thought. “Then it is something we can discuss further in the future,” he said simply. “There is no need to make a decision now.”

The ease with which he spoke, the lack of pressure, made you relax a little. This wasn’t a test or a negotiation with strict terms—this was a conversation, one meant to foster understanding.

You nodded, a small smile forming at the corners of your lips. “Okay. That sounds fair.” You spent a long moment going over his sheet, your fingers fidgeting slightly against the edges of the paper as you took everything in. Seeing his interests and boundaries laid out so clearly made everything feel real in a way that even your initial conversation hadn’t. This wasn’t just some abstract discussion anymore—this was him, his preferences, his desires.

And the fact that he was sitting here, openly sharing all of this with you, trusting you with it, made something warm settle deep in your chest.

Still, curiosity won over hesitation. You tapped your finger against another mark on his sheet���a very clear green—before looking up at him. “And this? You marked ‘Kneeling’ as a strong interest. Can I ask why?”

Zhongli’s golden eyes flicked down to where you were pointing, and for the first time since this discussion began, you saw something shift in his expression. It was subtle, but the corners of his mouth curved ever so slightly—not quite a smirk, but something close.

“You may,” he answered, his voice carrying the same smooth confidence as before, but now laced with something deeper. “That particular dynamic appeals to me for a number of reasons, but primarily because it aligns with my natural inclinations.”

You swallowed, feeling an odd mix of anticipation and nerves. “Which are?”

His gaze held yours, unwavering. “As I mentioned a few days back, I find great satisfaction in structure, in guidance. I enjoy providing my partner with direction and watching them flourish under it. There is a certain intimacy in control—not as a means of restriction, but as a way of deepening trust.”

Your breath caught slightly, and you tried not to shift in your seat. How was he saying these things so effortlessly?

“I see,” you mumbled, eyes darting back to the paper, more as an excuse to look away than anything else. You could feel his gaze on you, patient yet knowing, as if he could already see the way his words were affecting you.

Zhongli let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again. “And you?”

Your head snapped back up. “Huh?”

A glint of amusement danced in his eyes. “You marked the same with yellow.” He tapped a finger against your sheet, the slight smirk still playing at his lips. “Are you uncertain because you lack experience, or because you are unsure whether it would suit you?”

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. “...Both,” you admitted. “I mean, I think I’d like it, but I don’t know for sure. I’ve never had someone actually… take control like that before.”

Zhongli nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Then it is something we can explore carefully, should you choose to. There is no need to rush—only to communicate.”

His calm, measured response should have eased your nerves, but instead, it only made you hyper-aware of the weight of his words. “Should you choose to”. The choice was yours, entirely, but the way he spoke made it clear that if you did choose to pursue this… he would guide you through it with the same meticulous care he approached everything else.

The thought sent a full-body shiver through you.

You took a shaky breath, nodding. “Right. Communication.”

Zhongli’s lips twitched, but he said nothing else, simply waiting for you to continue.

Your eyes flickered back to his list, scanning over the remaining marks. The conversation had already gone deeper than you expected, but there was one last thing you needed to ask before you could fully process it all.

Taking a steadying breath, you pointed to a specific line near the bottom of the page—one of the few things he had marked yellow. “And, ‘Breath Control’?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “Why are you unsure about this one?”

Zhongli studied your expression for a moment before answering. “Because,” he said slowly, “it would depend entirely on my partner.”

You frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I have no personal aversion to it,” he explained, voice even as always. “However, its enjoyment is derived from the response of the one I am with. If my partner finds it pleasurable, then so do I. If not, I would have no particular attachment to it.”

You blinked, absorbing his words. “So… you’d only be into it if I was?”

A single nod. “Precisely.”

Something about that answer sent another wave of warmth through you—this time, not out of flustered embarrassment, but something softer. Zhongli wasn’t just interested in his own preferences; he was interested in yours. In you.

You swallowed thickly, nodding as you let the information settle. “That… makes sense.”

Zhongli watched you for a moment longer, then set the papers aside. “I believe we have covered the majority of what needed to be discussed.”

You blinked. “Oh.” You glanced down at the pages, realizing that, somehow, you had made it through all of them. You still felt like you might spontaneously combust at any moment, but you had done it.

Zhongli’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “How are you feeling?”

That was a loaded question.

“…Overwhelmed,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “But also… kind of relieved? I don’t know, I just—” You sighed, shaking your head. “I was so anxious about this conversation, but you made it feel… safe.”

Zhongli’s expression softened, and he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle, so intentional, that it nearly made your breath catch.

“I am glad,” he murmured. “That is the most important thing.”

You swallowed, your heart hammering against your ribs.

This was really happening.

And you were starting to think you wanted it more than you’d ever realized.

A few days had passed since your conversation, and while the initial overwhelming fluster had settled, the thoughts had not. Every now and then, your mind would drift back to the discussion, to the words written in Zhongli’s neat script, to the way he had patiently answered each of your questions, to the way his eyes carried more warmth and love for you than anyone else, and his unending patience through all your self-doubt and anxiety.

You had agreed to take your time—to ease into things rather than rushing headfirst. But tonight, as you sat beside Zhongli in the quiet glow of your shared space, sipping on tea that had long since gone lukewarm, you felt the weight of unspoken words between you.

Zhongli noticed, of course. He always did.

Setting his cup down with careful precision, he turned to you, studying your expression. “You seem lost in thought.”

You hesitated, fingers tightening slightly around your cup. “…I guess I’m just trying to picture it,” you admitted. “What it would actually be like.”

Zhongli hummed in understanding, his golden gaze holding yours. “Would you like me to describe it to you?”

Your breath hitched slightly. “You mean…?”

“A scene,” he clarified smoothly. “A glimpse of what you could expect,”

Your heartbeat stuttered. It was one thing to read about it, to theorize and wonder. But to have him—the man you trusted, the man who made you feel both safe and utterly unraveled—describe it in his own words?

You swallowed hard, then gave a small nod. “Okay.”

Zhongli’s gaze darkened slightly, though his expression remained composed. He leaned forward just enough that the space between you felt smaller, more intimate. When he spoke, his voice was low, as smooth as polished Cor Lapis.

"Then picture this,” he murmured.

“You stand before me, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin. You do not yet know what I will ask of you, only that you have entrusted yourself to me for the evening. I take my time—watching you, observing the way you respond to my presence, the way your breath hitches when I step closer. I do not touch you yet. Not until I am ready.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You shifted slightly, pressing your thighs together, but Zhongli didn’t acknowledge it. He simply continued.

“When I finally reach for you, it is deliberate—one hand at the back of your neck, the other tracing the length of your arm, slow and measured. I tilt your chin up, making sure you meet my gaze.”

His voice dipped, the weight of those words settling deep in your bones. You could almost imagine him doing these things to you, almost see the way his golden eyes would bore into you, unwavering.

“Pleased with your obedience—I reward you. Perhaps with my touch, perhaps with my voice, whispering praise against the shell of your ear. I let you feel the restraint, the control. I give you direction, and you—” His lips quirked slightly. “—you follow beautifully.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers digging into the fabric of your clothing as your eyes remained trained on your legs. Your entire body felt like it was burning.

Zhongli watched you closely, his gaze flickering over your face, as if memorizing your every reaction. And then, just as smoothly as he had begun, he leaned back, his expression once again composed.

“That,” he said calmly, “is merely one possibility.”

You exhaled shakily, your entire world narrowing down to him—his voice, his presence, the lingering heat of his words still settling into your skin.

“…Oh.” It was all you could manage.

Zhongli’s lips curled slightly, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You seem… affected.”

You buried your face in your hands with a groan. “You think?”

A low chuckle rumbled from him, warm and indulgent. He reached out, prying your hands gently from your face, his gloved fingers cool against your overheated skin. “There is no need for embarrassment,” he murmured. “I only wish for you to understand what this dynamic might entail.”

You met his gaze, your pulse still racing. There was no teasing in his expression, no judgment—only patience. You swallowed. “I… think I understand.”

Zhongli tilted his head slightly, watching you. “And do you wish to take the next step?”

Your breath caught. You had spent days thinking about this, about whether you were truly ready. But after hearing that—after feeling the effect his words alone had on you—was there really any doubt left?

You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself. Then, finally, you nodded.

“Yes,” you murmured. “I do.”

“Good,” he said, voice rich with quiet satisfaction. “Then we shall begin a discussion for our first scene together. I wish to plan something that is not inclined entirely towards something sexual, since it is your first time. We can have this as a trial run to see how you like things. What do you think?”

You nodded slowly, your mind still catching up to the gravity of the moment. A trial run. Something meant to ease you into the dynamic without pushing you too far, too fast. The idea was reassuring, grounding you in the knowledge that Zhongli would guide you at a steady pace.

“That… sounds good,” you admitted, voice quieter than you intended.

Zhongli’s eyes softened just slightly, a glimmer of approval settling in their golden depths. “Then let us discuss what this scene will entail.”

He sat back, folding his hands neatly in his lap as he regarded you. “To begin, I want to establish a structured environment—one where you can focus entirely on obedience and discipline, without the distraction of intimacy. This will allow you to explore the dynamic fully before we proceed any further.”

You swallowed, nodding again. The way he spoke—so composed, so sure—only reassured you further.

Zhongli continued, his tone smooth and deliberate. “For our first scene, I propose a few simple tasks. One: posture training. Learning to hold yourself properly under my instruction, maintaining discipline in both mind and body.”

You could already feel the phantom weight of his gaze, the way he would watch you, correct you.

“Two,” he went on, “obedience drills. Simple commands that will help you understand what it means to yield—not out of obligation, but by choice.”

His words sent warmth curling through your chest. You had already felt it, the pull of his authority, the way it settled over you like a comforting weight.

“And finally,” Zhongli said, voice dipping just slightly, “endurance.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Endurance?”

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. “Yes. The ability to hold a position, to follow instruction without hesitation, to listen even when the silence feels overwhelming. Discipline is not simply about following orders—it is about understanding them.”

You exhaled shakily, processing everything he had said. It all made sense. He was creating a foundation, a structured experience that would allow you to explore without feeling lost.

Zhongli observed you for a moment before speaking again, his voice gentle yet firm. “Does this sound like something you would be comfortable with?”

You nodded, heat creeping up your neck. “Yes.”

His gaze flickered over you, assessing. “Good. Then tell me—would you prefer for this scene to have a set timeframe, or shall we go until you feel you have reached your limit?”

The question took you by surprise. He was giving you control over the structure, ensuring you had a say in how this would unfold.

After a moment of thought, you answered, “A set time, I think.”

Zhongli nodded approvingly. “Very well. An hour, then. Enough time to explore, but not so much that you feel overwhelmed.”

Zhongli’s voice drew you back to the present. “Then we will begin tomorrow.”

Your breath hitched. “Tomorrow?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and indulgent. “Yes. I want you to have time to process, to prepare. Anticipation is a powerful thing, my dear.”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your stomach at his words.

Zhongli’s golden eyes glowed with quiet amusement as he reached forward, brushing his thumb under your eye. “Rest well,” he murmured, his fingers lingering for just a moment. “You will need it.”

The next day could not have arrived faster, you thought to yourself, as your jittery hands unlocked the front door with Zhongli’s pair of extra keys that he had given to you. The door unlocked with a resounding click and you stood motionless at the door for a moment, collecting your thoughts. 

Zhongli had made it abundantly clear that you could back out of this scene at any time you felt uncomfortable and he would be entirely okay with it. But, something about seeing Zhongli’s glimmering eyes and soothing voice was driving you to at least try your best. Zhongli had instructed you to prepare—wear something comfortable, ensure you were hydrated, and most importantly, come with an open mind. You took a deep breath as you pushed the door open and stepped in, setting down your bag and timidly waving at Zhongli, who was seated on his usual seat. You also noted the lack of the center table and the stack of books next to the sofa he was seated on along with a pillow placed on the ground. “Come,” he said simply, noting how your mind was already wandering

You obeyed without thought, stepping around the sofas until you stood right before him— Peering down into amber eyes.

Zhongli studied you in silence for a moment, as if assessing something unseen. Then, he reached out, his fingers ghosting over your wrist, grounding you.

“Are you ready?”

You swallowed, nodding. “Yes.”

A small, approving smile graced his lips. “A few instructions, we will follow the tricolour dango system for this scene. When I ask you what colour you’re feeling, you respond with ‘green’ for good, if you are okay to continue; ‘white’ as a warning, if some discomfort is present; and finally, ‘pink’ to completely stop the action. Is that understood?”

You swallowed again, nodding in affirmation. Zhongli’s gaze remained steady, but his brows furrowed slightly. “I would like you to provide as many verbal confirmations as possible. It is important for both of us.” “...Yes, I understand.” “Good.” Then, he continued, his tone calm yet firm. “If at any point you feel overwhelmed, even after signaling ‘green,’ we will use our safeword. I trust you remember what it is?” “Yes, Glaze Lily.” “Correct. You’re doing exceptionally well so far.” You ducked your head at that, blushing as he chuckled at your reaction. He closed the book he was reading and cleared his throat. “We will begin now. Do you have any questions you would like to ask, or any other preparations you want to make?” You hesitated, your stomach twisting in anxiety at the thought of what you were going to say. You cringed, but decided to ask anyway. "Yes... what do I… call you?"

Zhongli tilted his head slightly at your question, his amber eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “Ah. I see you have given this some thought.”

Your face burned, but you nodded. “I mean… I’ve read things. In fanfiction.” You hesitated before continuing, voice growing softer. “There are… titles. Honorifics. And I wasn’t sure if you had a preference.”

Zhongli let out a thoughtful hum, stepping closer. “It is true that certain titles are often used in dynamics such as these.” He regarded you carefully, as if weighing his words. “However, what truly matters is what feels natural for you.”

His voice dipped lower, more deliberate. “Would you prefer something formal? ‘Sir’ is a common choice, one that carries both respect and structure.”

Your breath hitched at the way he said it.

“Or something more personal?” He paused, a faint smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “I must admit, I have always been rather fond of ‘Master’.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the weight of the word.

Zhongli’s gaze remained steady. “But the choice remains yours, my dear. I won’t enforce anything. At least not now, for our first time doing this together.” You whispered a muted ‘okay’ as your skin crawled with embarrassment, but before you could spiral into your own thoughts, a firm voice broke you out of your stupor. “Kneel.”

Zhongli’s voice was steady, unwavering, yet never forceful. It was a command, yes, but one laced with patience.

“Slowly,” he reminded you, his tone soothing. “Gently, onto the pillow. Move with intention, and above all, be mindful of your own comfort.” You swallowed hard, obeying as you carefully lowered yourself onto your knees. Your movements were stiff, uncertain, and your skin prickled with self-consciousness.

You adjusted yourself onto the pillow, foam dipping underneath your weight, You placed your hands on your thighs for balance, your breath uneven as you settled into the position.

“Now,” Zhongli continued, leaning closer towards you. “Spread your legs—just enough to remain comfortable.”

Your face grew impossibly warm, and for a moment, hesitation gripped you. The vulnerability of it all sent your thoughts into a spiral, but before you could get lost in your own self-consciousness, Zhongli spoke again.

“You are overthinking this.”

Your eyes flicked up to him, startled.

His expression was calm, unreadable, but there was an undeniable softness in his gaze. “This is not a test. There is no right or wrong way to feel. I simply wish for you to be at ease.”

You took a shaky breath, nodding, and forced yourself to relax. Slowly, you parted your knees, shifting into a position that felt natural.

Zhongli observed you in silence for a moment before offering a small nod of approval. “Good. Now hold this position.”

You did as instructed, the weight of his gaze pressing into you like a silent force. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just new. Different.

“Tell me,” he murmured, “How do you feel?”

You wet your lips before answering, voice barely above a whisper.

“…Exposed.”

Zhongli let out a thoughtful hum. “That is to be expected.”

You heard the rustle of fabric as he moved slightly, still seated across you. “And yet, you are still here. Still listening. Still following.”

The words sent a shiver through you.

Zhongli exhaled softly, his voice a velvet murmur that wrapped around your nerves like silk. “You are doing well,” he said, approval thick in his tone—quiet but grounding, like a weight that anchored you in place. “Shall we continue?”

You nodded at first, but then remembered his earlier request for verbal confirmation. Your throat felt dry, your heart beating a little faster as you forced your voice past the lump in it.

“Yes… Sir.”

There was a beat of stillness. His amber eyes flickered with something—surprise, perhaps?—just for the briefest moment. But it passed just as quickly, fading back into the steady, composed expression you had come to rely on.

His smile softened, warm and reassuring, and he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

“Good,” he said, voice low and fond. “You may use my legs for support, if that will help you stay comfortable.”

He adjusted his posture, sitting up straighter as he reached for the book beside him, flipping it open with deliberate ease.

“I am going to read now,” he continued. “You will stay where you are, relaxed and present. If anything feels off, you will tell me immediately. Is that understood?”

You nodded again, more firmly this time. “Yes, Sir.”

The corners of his mouth tugged upward ever so slightly in approval before his gaze shifted down to the pages in his hands.

And just like that, the silence enveloped the two of you like a weighted blanket. Zhongli’s eyes scanned the pages with the same graceful attentiveness he applied to everything he did. His presence, calm and composed, exuded a quiet authority that filled the room. You shifted slightly, careful to maintain your position, adjusting your weight against his legs as he’d allowed.

The rustle of the paper as he turned a page was soothing, almost meditative. There was something oddly comforting in the silence that followed—being still, being watched over. His hand occasionally moved, brushing idle circles against the back of your head, never distracting, only grounding.

“You’re doing very well,” he said after a few minutes, his voice low, almost like an afterthought—but it made your chest flutter nonetheless. “I’m pleased.”

You weren’t sure what made you more placid—his praise, the closeness, or the simple, deliberate rhythm of his movements. But you basked in it anyway, quietly proud that you hadn’t panicked or shifted away. Time passed slowly, though you did not count the minutes. The silence between you was never empty—it was full of breath and thought and unspoken affection. His hand would occasionally leave the top of your head to turn a page or adjust his posture ever so slightly, his calm energy keeping you anchored, a silent reassurance that he hadn’t forgotten you were there—he never would.

You stayed still, adjusting slightly only when your knees began to ache, always mindful of the position, of your breathing, of the atmosphere that wrapped around the two of you like velvet.

After what must have been the agreed upon timeframe of an hour, Zhongli gently closed his book and placed it to the side. The soft sound of the cover meeting wood brought you back to the present like a gentle chime. His hand moved to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly along your skin as he coaxed your sleepy gaze upward.

“You did wonderfully,” he said, his voice low and warm, thick with praise. “How are you feeling?”

You blinked up at him, eyes slightly dazed from the quiet headspace you’d slipped into. Your body felt heavy, but not unpleasantly so. Relaxed. Tethered. You offered a small nod, followed by a whispered, “Good… I feel good.”

A rare smile touched his lips, one that reached all the way to his eyes.

“Let us bring this scene to a close, then,” he said gently. “You’ve done enough for now.”

His hands moved with care as he helped you sit up on the sofa, guiding you slowly to avoid any sudden discomfort. He handed you a glass of water, fingers lingering against yours in a touch that felt as intimate as any embrace.

Zhongli remained close as he took a hold of your legs, gently stretching both limbs as your knees protested from being locked in the same position for so long. As you winced at the feeling returning to your legs again, you felt a pair of lips on your knee. “You listened to every word, and you stayed with me. I’m proud of you.”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion. A breath caught. All of it—your effort, your nervousness, the fluttering thoughts you tried to push down—felt worth it just to hear that.

“You did not falter,” he continued softly, reaching out to cup your face. “You respected your own limits while offering me your trust. That is no small thing. I want you to know how much I value it—and you.”

You blinked quickly, overwhelmed, but nodded.

“I… I wanted to do well for you.”

Zhongli’s expression softened. “And you have. More than well. I am exceptionally proud.”

He helped you shift positions slowly, guiding you up with steady hands so you wouldn’t strain anything. Every movement was careful, deliberate, as though you were something precious—because in his eyes, you were.

“You may rest now,” he murmured. “You’ve earned that much and more.” You nodded numbly, mind still clouded as you were led to his bedroom. You barely registered how his hands moved with practiced care—helping you tug off your clothes, guiding you under the covers as if you were made of something fragile. All you truly noticed was the pleasant ache still blooming in your knees, the distant hum beneath your skin, and the warmth that clung to you like a second blanket.

He didn’t speak much—he didn’t need to. His presence alone was grounding, quiet and constant. The mattress dipped slightly as he sat beside you, brushing your hair away from your face with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

Then, a kiss—soft, reverent—was pressed to your forehead.

“You did so well,” he murmured, the weight of his voice pulling you deeper into the warmth of the moment. “Rest now. I’m right here.”

Your fingers curled faintly into the blanket as sleep tugged you under, slow and sweet.

And the last thing you felt was not the ache, not the nerves, not the uncertainty…

But safety. Wholeness.

And love, quiet and unwavering, resting just behind the press of his lips.

[soleauclub]

The Hot Girl Lunch Break Routine (For Corporate, Creative or WFH Girlies)

by Soleau Club / www.soleauclub.com / @soleauclub

Lunch breaks aren’t just for scarfing down a sad salad while scrolling TikTok — they’re a prime opportunity to reset, recharge, and elevate your entire day. Whether you’re hustling in a corporate office, creating content from a chic co-working space, or working from your couch in sweats, here’s how to make your lunch break a full-on hot girl ritual:

1. Hydration Check – Replenish & Reset

Before you even think about food, grab a glass of water and add a scoop of Soleau Club’s electrolyte powder. The minerals help restore hydration levels, reduce that mid-day slump, and keep your skin glowing. Sip it slowly while you step outside for some fresh air or just stand by a window and soak in some vitamin D.

2. De-Bloat Stretch Session – 5 Minutes to Recenter

If you’ve been sitting all morning, your body is begging for some movement. Roll out your yoga mat and do a quick 5-minute stretch sequence focused on de-bloating and releasing tension. Try these three moves:

Standing Forward Fold: Release tight hamstrings and encourage circulation.

Seated Spinal Twist: Ring out digestive organs and de-bloat.

Legs-Up-the-Wall: Let your lymphatic system reset while you breathe deeply.

3. Beauty Boost Lunch – Eat for Energy & Glow

It’s not just about what you eat — it’s about how you eat it. Pack your Soleau Club bento box the night before with a balanced, nutrient-dense meal that’s easy to digest and won’t leave you in a food coma. Think:

Protein: Grilled salmon, tofu, or a boiled egg for that skin-boosting collagen.

Greens: Spinach or arugula for a hit of antioxidants.

Healthy Fats: Avocado or a handful of walnuts to keep you full and focused.

Carbs: Quinoa or sweet potato to stabilize blood sugar and keep cravings in check.

Pro tip: Add a sprinkle of chia seeds for extra fiber and Omega-3s.

4. Mental Detox – Unplug & Unwind

Set a timer for 10 minutes and close your laptop, turn off your phone, and step away from any screens. Sit down with your lunch and practice mindful eating. Focus on the textures, flavors, and how your body feels as you eat. This not only helps with digestion but also keeps you from stress-snacking later in the afternoon.

5. Midday Walk & Podcast Combo – Move & Motivate

If you have time, head outside for a 10-15 minute walk. The fresh air and light movement help clear your head and shake off any brain fog. Queue up a quick wellness podcast, a guided meditation, or a motivational playlist to keep your vibe high. Or, just walk in silence and let your mind wander — sometimes the best ideas come when you’re not actively thinking.

6. Beauty Reset – Refresh & Reapply

Before heading back to work, do a quick beauty refresh:

Spritz your face with a hydrating mist to bring your skin back to life.

Reapply your SPF (yes, even if you’re inside — blue light is still a thing).

Dab a little under-eye concealer to wake up your face.

Swipe on a tinted lip balm to look effortlessly put together.

7. Set the Tone – Post-Lunch Intention Setting

Before diving back into your to-do list, take 2 minutes to set a simple intention for the rest of the day. Maybe it’s to stay calm, stay focused, or finish one specific task. Write it down, say it out loud, or just keep it in your mind. This quick mental reset keeps you from feeling overwhelmed and helps you move through your afternoon with more purpose and less stress.

8. Sip & Sustain – The Afternoon Boost

Before you get back to work, make yourself a warm cup of green tea or ginger tea to aid digestion and keep your energy steady. If you’re feeling snacky, grab a handful of almonds or some dark chocolate. You don’t need a full meal, just a little something to keep your blood sugar stable until dinner.

And that’s it. Your lunch break just went from a mindless 30-minute scroll session to a full-on hot girl wellness ritual. Keep it consistent, and you’ll feel the difference — more energy, less bloat, and that post-lunch glow that makes the rest of your day a breeze.

Ready to go hardcore with your clean girl routine? Follow Soleau Club on Tumblr for more daily challenges, catch our YouTube videos every Sunday for new routines, and stay connected with us on TikTok and Instagram (@soleauclub) for all the inspo and accountability you need. For it-girl wellness accessories and free US shipping, shop online at www.soleauclub.com

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

So uh...I know the odds of this happening is slim to none, but I figure I'll shoot my shot: the Creator having a little one, who is sporting a small diamond marking on their forehead? (Xiao, it's Xiao as the dad.) And for fun: Venti somehow gets blamed for this! :D

Tsarita: The Yaksha has an Anemo Vision. Of course someone who uses the element of Barbatos would be so forward as to try something with the Creator!

Venti: I DID NOTHING, WHY AM I BEING BLAMED?!

A forever diamond

WC: ~600

Cw: Raiden is alloyist 😔

Imagine if this happened close to cloud retainer and she just side eyes Xiao like "this one is impressed the conqueror of demons has, what the younger generations call, rizz"

Xuezhui’s birthdays are a whole event for liyue, somewhat of an unofficial holiday, people are often given half day or the whole day to roam the streets, different vendors setting stalls with food and trinkets.

A room would get rented in the xinyue salon and the seven stars and the archons would accompany for lunch and a small dessert for the toddler.

As you finish eating and leave Xuezhui on the floor she starts running to a small group of children, zhongli trailing behind her so you could finish your conversation with keqing.

Regal as when he was an archon zhongli stands a few meters away from the little group of children playing tag. Sometimes he can't help but let himself drift in his thoughts, Xuezhui is so similar to Xiao when he rescued him, even when only a handful of people remember that day he can see it as clear as day. Could Xiao have spent his younger life as carefree as this little girl?

Suddenly he is snapped from his daydream by a scream and sobbing.

“What is it, little one?” zhongli leans forward where xuezhui was seated crying, some of her friends surrounding her. He saw her fall while chasing each other but it didn't seem hard enough for her to not keep playing.

“It hurrrttss” her hands clasped on her forehead, tear clouding her eyes.

“Let me see” softly he pries her hands away, expecting to see some flushed skin, maybe a bruise or some blood but it was neither of those, rather it was a small purple diamond “...interesting”

“What happened over here?” Quickly you walk towards them, worried about the soft sniffles and suddenly falling to the floor. She makes grabby hands so you perch her on your hip, smoothing her hair.

“Someone can't refuse her inheritance for too long” he taps between his brows, letting you know. Swiftly you move her bangs, showing a small diamond just under her hairline.

“I thought it was make up”

“it would make sense with his depressive persona but as you already know adepti have no need for vision and merely wear one to comply with human expectations,” he picks something up from the floor, a small golden plate before placing it on the silk in the back of her dress “on the contrary, half adeptus like Ganyu need a vision to canalize elemental energy yet can use adeptal features to hone their abilities”

“I can barely manage her as it's, don't tell me that was a vision”

His hand falls on your shoulder, a stiff smile trying not to laugh at you “I would invest in fire insurance”

Seemingly your defeated face was very visible, even from a few meters away, or you took a fair amount of time, as some archon and Ningguang were approaching you.

“Is anything wrong I could help with?��� Ningguang speaks first, wandering what might have happened.

“Xuezhui fell, just a small nick on the forehead” zhongli snickers behind you.

“if she hurt herself I'm sure Dr Baizhu wouldn't mind checking her up quickly” she attempts to check her but you change her to the other side, attempting to hide her mark.

“She is fine, she just got scared and is a bit cuddly”

“oh, what a shame, I wanted to try her beloved almond tofu but if she is so stuck with you we will have to leave it for another occasion”

“Almond tofu! Let's go” she jumps out of your arms and jumps towards Raiden, who notices instantly the soft purple diamond “mmh, what is this?” she swipes her thumb over it but it doesn't smudge, the edges perfectly neat.

“Who does that remind me of?” Venti taps his chin.

“the vigilant yaksha?...” Ningguang mumbles under her breath. She did know he took the role of your bodyguard but never thought your relationship would be so more intimate

“So in the end it WAS your fault…”

“but he is from Liyue! It's Morax’s fault!”

“But he has an anemo vision”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“All anemo vision holders are libertine or lazy”

“Hey! That is alloyism!”

“who would have guessed this would work out nicely for me”

[vividraft]

fading remembrance ✧˖*°࿐

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gn!reder x xiao, wanderer, kazuha (seperate)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ summary: he was there with you when you spent your last moments on earth. but living without you was never something he could have ever imagined

⇢ ˗ˏˋ important notes: this is a repost from my old account (@/rainstops)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ a/n: I reformatted this post while i was watching aitsuki nakurus life stream... her speaking voice is so nice she sounds like kiritani haruka

old posts masterlist tba !

whenever xiao ordered almond tofu at any restaurant, it always tasted the same. even when he cooked it himself. it always had the same taste. The tofu being as bland as tofu usually is, and the dish tasting sweet and like almonds. just what you would expect almond tofu to be. nothing more and nothing less.

but when you appeared in his life, xiao found out you liked cooking. and when you found out that almond tofu was his favorite dish, you immediately went out of your way to learn how to make almond tofu. knowing that xiao ate it a lot, you asked him if he could taste it. xiao did what you asked him to. but what he did not expect was that the almond tofu tasted different. not in a bad way, but whenever you cooked it, it tasted like you had put your emotions onto a plate. like a little piece of joy, you served xiao. It was the first time, xiao could for sure say that he enjoyed something. but the word 'enjoy' did not feel like it was enough to describe the way he felt. 

He loved the dish, he loved how skilled you were at cooking it, but most of all, he loved you. 

and you loved him too. 

you loved him as long as you could. you loved him, before the passing of time took your life. xiao loved you a lot longer than just that. He loved everything about you. He loved the way you would smile at him, because you gave him a different smile you gave your friends, your family or strangers. 

When his immortality kept him right where he was, he realized how frozen in time he felt. for you everything moved on so quickly, and soon it was over. xiaos days remained the same old and blank routine before you showed up, and it returned to being the same when you left. but after your death, everything seemed to be so heavy. his eyelids, his arms, his legs, his head, but especially his heart. 

He searched all across teyvat, for a person, a restaurant or anyone, who could cook almond tofu the exactly way you did. He wanted to taste it again, even if it was just once more. 

he despaired when he couldn't find a way to make his favorite dish taste the way you made it taste, but his whole world crumbled only then, when he realized he couldn't remember how it tasted. he stopped counting the days and the nights he spend living, because why would it matter if he was slowly forgetting you?

he used to do it, so he could remember your birthday, or your anniversary, or any day that was special to you. but now you are gone, and xiaos memories are leaving as well.

-

venti wrote many songs in his life. many of them telling stories, but just as many of them just there to sound pretty. 

but then when you showed up, he had someone to write songs for. He wrote them about you, and for you. and you sang the songs together. 

venti loved your voice. your voice was the best part of his songs. to him, it sounded like an angel's voice.

not only your singing voice, but your voice in general. it made his heart beat so fast, it nearly sprang out of his chest. Whenever you greeted him with a smile on your face, it was like all his worries and problems disappeared into thin air.

maybe he took it for granted. Maybe he expected to be able to wake up everyday and sing in the kitchen with you while preparing breakfast together. Maybe he just thought you could sing him to sleep every night.

Well it so happened that that was not the case.

a member of the fatui took your life, and your angelic voice right with it. venti was there. venti was there, when the knife of the fatui found your back. the next moments were a mere blur to venti. He remembers getting rid of the fatui, and in the following moments, he held you in his arms, pleading to be able to hear your voice again.

he mumbled something along the lines of healing you, but you told him that it was too late. it was you who spoke those words, with the voice he loved so much. you lifted a hand to his cheek, and said the three words he loved hearing from you so much. a tear left his eye and fell right under your eye, on your cheek, making it look like it was a tear of your own. He held you in his arms tightly, like it could prevent you from leaving the world.

That was when you spoke your last words. 

'Thank you' they were. 

thank you? What were you thanking him for?

your eyes closed, and the smile you had on your face the last moments before your death left. your hand slowly sank from his face, and he held your hand. 

your hands were usually cold, but this time it bothered him. this time it felt like it was only pointing towards your death.

-

The wanderer never held much appreciation for the people around him. that was until you came around. it was like you could see right through him, and his facade. like you could see the way he crumbled on the inside, not knowing how to handle his own emotions.

He loved the way you held his hand. your warm hand felt very relaxing against his usual cold one. often you would play with them as well. whenever he was having an especially hard day, because some people kept annoying him, you'd sit down with him. his head in your lap while you were massaging one of his hands. you'd listen carefully as he talks about the people that would annoy him throughout the day. at the end, you would give him a kiss on the forehead. although often enough he'd already been asleep by then.

but you seemed to know him better than he knew himself. you knew what he needed and when he needed it. Whenever he was about to explode from anger, you hugged him, since you seem to very well know that all the anger is built up from all the things that happened to him.

a tear fell as you held scaramouche close to you. one hand around his body, and the other on the back of his head, as his head was resting on your shoulder. the tears were wetting your shoulder but you didn't mind. you would do anything to make scaramouche happy again.

another tear fell, another one, and another one. but this time it was the day you died.

with widened eyes you dropped to the floor on your knees, scaramouche caught you before you could drop to the floor. a singular tear fell from your eye as well.

scaramouche held your body tightly against his, as if you would disappear if he would let go. In this scenario, this was the case, but no matter how close he'd hold you, there was nothing he could do.

he held you the way you did it, everytime he was upset. with an arm around your body, and a hand on the back of your head, while your head was laying against his shoulder.

'i can't breathe scaramouche. i'm scared'

were the last words you spoke, before your eyes slowly closed.

scaramouche had never cried that much in his life. not when he was betrayed so often, not when his mother threw him out like he was nothing, and not whenever you would comfort him.

scaramouches chest filled with regret. he wishes he would have been there for you at least as much as he was there for you. he wishes he bought you more presents for even just putting up with him. he wishes he would have just gotten over his ego and thanked you. he would do all those things and so much more, just so he could repay you.

-

you remember the day so clearly, when kazuha confessed his love to you. his usually so casual demeanor was all gone, as his hands were shaking while holding a piece of paper. his face was bright red and his voice was shaking and cracking up, as he recited his self written poem for you. When he was done he wished for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

when you started giggling he thought you were laughing at him. he didn't dare to look up at you, his gaze was only burning holes into the floor.

but when he really tensed up was when you jumped at him and threw your arms over his shoulders.

ever since then, kazuha had written so many poems for you, and you had stored them all very carefully. one after another.

one time for his birthday, you tried writing him one, and although it wasn't the best, he treasured it like nothing else.

but also he treasured you.

for your one year anniversary you gifted him an old gramophone. you weren't sure if he was really going to like it, but he adored it.

ever since that day, most evenings were spent dancing to music, time passing so much faster than it seemed. your hands were locked and one of kazuhas hands was resting on your waist. one of his hands went through your hair.

On the first day you danced with him, he realized how much he needed you. you were his light, his hope, his everything. it's why he calls you 'his star'

Unfortunately, every star dies one day.

if you would ask him, his star died way too early.

On the night your light faded, a shooting star crossed the sky. kazuha knows you're only supposed to make one wish, but all of them crossed his mind at once. he wished he could dance with you again, he wish his fingers could make his way through your soft hair once more, he wished he could gift you more poems he wrote, and watch your eyes light up like the night sky does when the stars start glowing.

his breath hitched when he felt your hand touch his cheek once more. you gave him a last smile, and a tear rolled down your cheek. your hand fell from his cheek, but kazuha caught it mid air, and he held it to his chest.

later, a poem could be found on your grave.

in a moment of sorrow,

please let me borrow, 

your healing light once more,

before i am found at our seashore.

It was the last poem he ever wrote.

[husbandograveyard]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ Part of my fluffember short writings - Masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ Xiao (genshin Impact ) X Genderneutral reader ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ Fluff - wc: 289 ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

It took you a while to find your way into Xiao’s heart. By nature he stays away from almost everyone, just doing his job, wandering, protecting, patrolling. It’s what he’s learned to do to protect himself from anymore heartache. It’s a sad side effect from losing so many people near and dear to him, his heart filled with so much grief, there’s only so much place for affection left.

And yet. You were there with your endless amounts of patience, the most delicious almond tofu he’s ever tasted, and a certain charm that he found himself so incredibly curious of. You never tried to impose yourself on him, always left before he had the opportunity to excuse himself. It made him curious, and despite knowing better, it made him yearn for you. For the next time you’d meet, for the next time you’d say his name, have a brief conversation with him. The truth was that you were also so very eager to get to know him, so very eager to get closer to him. But he had his walls up high, and you didn’t want to impose. You didn’t want to scare him away. So you ran before he could send you away, and just like that, he started to run after you. 

And that’s how your conversations slowly became longer and longer. It’s why he started asking for you on days when you weren’t waiting for him. It’s why he came by more and more often. It’s why he checked up on you sometimes at moments when you weren’t even expecting him. 

It took you a while to find your way into Xiao’s heart. But once you were in, he was never going to let you go.

[ms-demeanor]

do you ever struggle with deciding what to eat due to adhd?? i enjoy cooking and i'm not a picky eater nor do i have sensitivities but i struggle so much deciding that i always end up eating cereal or donuts

"What do you want to do for dinner?" is a conversation that could easily start a massive fight in my family when I was a kid and is my least favorite conversation to have.

Fortunately (hah) I have so many food allergies that my options are pretty significantly limited so my decisions on food are all based on A) what I have in the house or could easily get, B) how tired I am, C) what I *can* eat, D) if we have the money for it.

My grocery shopping strategy is centered around these ideas, so to a certain extent I've pre-made those kinds of choices so our "we don't know what else to do for dinner" meals tend to default to eggs and toast, grilled cheese and tomato soup, or tofu and rice because that's the stuff we've got on-hand.

IDK. I'm not picky, it doesn't generally take me a lot of effort to make food, and my biggest ADHD issue is "i forgot to eat and now it's ten and we're too hungry to wait for a full meal to cook." Those are the days when I'll end up eating cereal for dinner or having an instant soup packet or something, but I try to avoid that because that tends to be a pretty expensive way to get food (so it costs less to make two meals of rice and tofu plus two meals of rice and eggs than it does to eat four packets of soup or a box of cereal).

Sometimes I wander around looking in the fridge and the pantry and on the counter then back to the fridge and don't find anything that I'm interested in eating - the "I want something but I don't know what I want" issue - but mostly my problem is "it has been eight hours since I woke up I should have breakfast oh SHIT i'm really hungry what can I eat *right now* okay yes i guess i will have ice cream for breakfast."